SOCIETY 


CECIL  RALEIGH 


Of. 


7-s- 


THE 

SINS  OF  SOCIETY 


BY 
CECIL  RALEIGH  AND  HENRY  HAMILTON 


G.  W.  DILLINGHAM  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS  NEW  YORK 


IN  RECOLLECTION 

OF 

MANY  PLEASANT  YEARS  OF  FRIENDSHIP, 

AND  MANY  ANXIOUS  HOURS  OF  WORK, 

THIS  STORY 

is 
DEDICATED 

TO 
ARTHUR  COLLINS, 

Managing  Director  of  Drury  Lane  Theatre, 
BY 

THE  AUTHOR 


2137847 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.    THE  "BRIDGE"  OF  SIGHS      .  .  % 

II.    SECURITY?  .        .        .        •  .  6ii 

III.  THE  DESPERATE  RACE        .  .  88; 

IV.  IN  THE  TOILS       .        .        •  *  ioi|j 
V.    DESPERATION!     .        .        .  .  125] 

VI.    FOR  THE  SIN  OF  ANOTHER    .  .  15  a 

VII.    THE  FUGITIVE     ....  11771 

VIII.    THE  PRICE  OF  SILENCE        .  .  203 

IX.    "HASTE! — To  THE  WEDDING?"  .  232 

X.    "THE  DARKEST  HOUR  ..."  .  2635 


THE  SINS  OF  SOCIETY 


CHAPTER  I 

THE  "BRIDGE"  OF  SIGHS 

LADY  GWENDOLIN  ASHLEY  rose  from 
the  table  and  walked  slowly  out  of  the  great 
Card  Room  at  the  Pontifex  Club,  knowing  that 
she  had  lost  more  than  she  could  pay. 

The  crowd  of  smart  players  were  far  too  intent 
on  their  game  to  notice  the  pain  and  the  panic 
stamped  on  the  child's  face — for  she  was  little 
more  than  a  child,  and  a  sweetly  pretty  child  at 
that.  Fair,  fresh,  delicate,  with  deep  pleading 
eyes  and  a  complexion  like  Sevres  china,  her 
proper  place  on  a  glorious  Summer  afternoon  was 
a  garden  of  roses — certainly  not  a  gilded,  stifling 


io  /THE   SINS  OF   SOCIETY 

caravanserie  solely  devoted  to  the  insane  pursuit 
of  a  silly  and  pernicious  game. 

The  powdered  footmen  silently  swung  open  the 
heavy  mahogany  doors,  and  she  passed  out  to  the 
head  of  the  great  staircase.  Behind  her  came 
the  Hon.  Mrs.  Murgatroyd,  glancing  at  her  ivory 
tablets  and  softly  purring  the  words  that  fell  like 

the  knell  of  doom  on  the  ears  of  the  frightened 
girl. 

"Two  hundred — yes — that's  it,  isn't  it,  dear — 
exactly  two  hundred  and  thirty  pounds?" 

Gwendolin  steadied  herself  against  the  bannis- 
ter and  began  slowly  to  descend. 

"Facilis  descensus  .  .  .  ' 

Why  had  she  ever  played ! 

"Two  hundred  and  thirty  pounds  .  .  .  ' 

"I  don't  know  how  I  can  pay  it,"  the  girl  stam- 
mered, "I  don't  know  how  I  can  ever  pay 
it!" 

"I  should  have  paid  you,  dear,  if  /  had  lost." 
The  thin  lips  of  the  Hon.  Mrs.  Murgatroyd  came 
together  with  a  snap,  and  her  watery  gray  eyes 
glistened. 

"O  yes,  yes,  I  know,  of  course,"  Gwendolin 


THE   SINS   OF    SOCIETY  n 

protested  quickly,  "only — only  I  assure  you  when 
I  sat  down  I  never  thought — " 

"That  you  wouldn't  get  up  a  winner?  We 
never  do ;  but  people  who  can't  pay,  shouldn't  play 
at  all." 

"I  never  have  before,  and  I  never  shall  again!" 

"Quite  right,  dear." 

"And  please — please — if  I  might  ask,  you  won't 
—•won't " 

"Won't  tell  your  sister,  Lady  Marion?  I  hope 
I  shan't  have  to." 

"She'd  be  so  angry.  She's  always  forbidden 
me  to  play." 

"And  now  you've  done  it — and  lost.  Well,  it 
is  much  better  for  you  than  winning.  A  burnt 
child  dreads  the  fire.  You  will  remember." 

"I  shall  indeed." 

The  girl  reeled  from  the  foot  of  the  stairs, 
towards  the  recessed  Cosy  Corner,  at  the  end  of 
the  long  entrance  Hall. 

"You  will  remember,  also,"  purred  Mrs.  Mur- 
gatroyd,  mincing  after  her,  "that  I  shall  expect 
your  check  in  the  usual  way  by  twelve  o'clock  to- 
morrow. And  I  am  sure  I  shall  get  it."  The  thin 


12  THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY 

lips  parted  in  a  wintry  smile.  "It's  the  custom, 
dear.  You  quite  understand." 

"O  yes — I — I  quite  understand — " 

"I  thought  you  would.  Two  hundred  and  thirty 
pounds." 

Trying  to  stifle  a  sob  the  child  sank  limply 
and  buried  her  face  among  the  cushions  of  the 
big  sofa  at  her  side. 

The  Hon.  Mrs.  Murgatroyd  smiled  acidly  and 
closing  her  tablets  with  a  snap  minced  away  to- 
wards the  tall  glass  doors  which  at  the  precise 
moment  flew  open  very  suddenly  and  a  small 
tornado  of  jingling  chatelaine  and  rustling  silk, 
cannoned  on  to  her  shoulder  and  nearly  threw  her 
backwards. 

"Lady  Goldbury,"   she  exclaimed — "really — " 

"Awfully  sorry.    Trodden  on  your  pet  corn?" 

"I  have  none.  But  in  decent  Society  one  is 
unaccustomed  to  being — hustled." 

"Can't  get  along  in  these  days,  without  hus- 
tling!" The  Tornado  swept  on  its  path. 

"Indeed!  I  suppose  that  means  we  must  ex- 
pect from  City  Matrons — City  manners !" 

Mrs.  Murgatroyd  was  gone.    The  glass  doors 


THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY  13 

closed  on  her  Parthian  dart.  It  stung.  For 
though  Lady  Goldbury  was  a  bit  of  a  character 
and  professed  to  be  proud  of  it,  she  winced  oc- 
casionally when  her  decided  commercial  predilec- 
tions were  superciliously  criticised  by  some  sneer- 
ing member  of  the  Smart  Set.  Keen,  clever  and 
energetic,  the  widow  of  a  City  Knight,  she  stuck 
to  the  business  of  her  late  husband  and  conducted 
it  with  more  than  the  average  man's  ability.  The 
money  that  she  made  she  spent,  but  never  wasted. 
The  affectations  of  "Society"  amused,  but  never 
enslaved,  her.  She  did  not  care  for  cards  really, 
but  she  deliberately  lost  enough  at  the  Pontifex 
to  make  her  popular  with  people  of  good  social 
position  who  were  pleasant  company  at  dinner. 
She  knew  their  exact  value,  and  she  paid  for  it — 
fairly  but  not  extravagantly.  She  understood  the 
Hon.  Mrs.  Murgatroyd  thoroughly  and  she  meant 
precisely  what  she  said  when  she  furiously  hurled 
after  her  the  one  curt  comment  "Cat!" 

Turning,  she  caught  sight  of  Gwendolin,  and 
every  outline  of  the  pathetic  little  figure  was  elo- 
quent of  distress.  In  an  instant  she  was  at  the 
girl's  side — in  an  instant  her  quick  eye  caught  the 


i4  THE   SINS  OF   SOCIETY 

glisten  of  tears  on  the  long  drooping  lashes.  In 
an  instant  her  warm  heart  leaped  with  sympathy 
— and  in  an  instant,  she  determined  to  know  the 
Truth. 

She  took  the  child's  hand  and  stroked  it  gently. 
"Lady  Gwen,"  she  said,  "look  at  me,  dear — what 
are  you  crying  for?" 

"N — nothing,"  was  the  stammering  reply. 

"Twaddle !"  came  the  quick  retort.-  "Girls  cry 
for  the  moon,  but  they  don't  cry  for  nothing. 
Come  now — tell  me  the  trouble — can't  I  help?" 

"Impossible!" 

"  'Urn.    Big  word.    Tell  me  and  try." 

Shame  and  fear  caught  the  girl  by  the  throat. 
"I — I  can't,"  she  gasped. 

"Tut — tut.  Why  not?  You  mayn't  believe  it, 
but  I  was  a  girl  too,  once  upon  a  time,  and  a  very 
silly  girl  at  that.  You  can  trust  me."  She  slid 
her  arm  tenderly  around  Lady  Gwen's  shoulder 
and  her  voice  softened.  "Is  it — Love?" 

"O— no!" 

The  prompt  and  emphatic  answer  was  so  ob- 
viously genuine  that  Lady  Goldbury  drew  in  her 
breath  sharply  as  her  brows  contracted  and  the 


THE  SINS  OF   SOCIETY*  15, 

t, 
inevitable   alternative  dropped  from  her  lips — 

"Money!" 

The  girl's  head  sank  as  she  whispered  very 
faintly,  "Yes." 

A  smile  was  struggling  with  the  frown  for 
mastery  on  Lady  Goldbury's  keen  cut  face.  "Well, 
well,"  she  said,  "we  all  get  into  the  same  muddle 
— of  course  it's  Frocks?" 

She  stopped.  The  child  did  not  answer— and 
did  not  look  up. 

Lady  Goldbury  waited  a  moment — and  the 
smile  vanished. 

"Not,  Frocks?" 

"N-no." 

"Not — not  borrowed." 

"O,  indeed,  no!" 

"BRIDGE?" 

Gwen  sank  back  again  among  the  cushions  and 
covered  her  face  with  her  hands.  "It  is  the  first 
time,"  she  sobbed,  "I  give  my  word,  the  very  first 
time." 

"And  what  did  the  'first  time'  cost,  eh?  ... 
*How  much?" 

"Two  .  .  .  two  hundred  and  thirty  pounds!" 


1 6  THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY. 

"Two — Christopher!    To  whom?" 

"Mrs.  Murgatroyd " 

"Cat!  And  she  looked  as  if  she'd  been  eating 
the  canary !  What  will  your  sister,  Lady  Marion, 
do — I  mean — think  about  this." 

There  was  a  pause.  Lady  Goldbury  had  floun- 
dered on  to  delicate  ground.  She  knew  it.  She 
glanced  at  Gwen,  wondering  how  much  she  knew. 
Then  she  wondered  how  much  there  was  to  know, 
and  whether  a  young  girl's  foolish  gamble  was 
going  to  precipitate  a  Family  crisis,  if  not  a  Social 
Scandal? 

She  knew,  indeed,  not  being  deaf  she  could  not 
help  knowing,  that  people  in  the  Pontifex  Club 
had  begun  to  say  that  Marion  was  "a  bad  parter." 
At  first  she  had  paid  no  particular  heed  because 
women,  even  the  smartest  women,  do  not  look  on 
card  debts  from  the  man's  point  of  view.  A  Club 
man  regards  a  card  debt  as  a  debt  of  honor — a 
debt  taking  precedence  far  before  such  common 
liabilities  as  those  due  to  the  tailor,  the  butcher 
and  the  baker,  for  clothes,  bread  and  meat,  for 
the  actual  necessaries  of  life.  The  Club  man 
places  the  card  debt  on  the  highest  social  plane 


THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY  17 

and  on  occasion  deliberately  pays  for  It  with 
his  life  when  he  finds  that  he  can't  pay  it  in 
money.  If  the  wine  merchant  whose  liquor  he 
has  drunk  presses  for  the  bill,  he  goes  bank- 
rupt without  hesitation  or  regret.  If  he  loses 
money  at  Bridge  and  can't  pay  he  cuts  his 
throat  for  very  shame. 

Women  have  no  hallucinations  on  this  point. 
They  never  take  card  debts  seriously.  It  is  a 
curious  fact,  but  a  fact  it  remains.  Women 
who  gamble  unsuccessfully  are  annoyed  but  never 
embarrassed!  If  Lord  A.  has  not  paid  his  card 
debts  he  is  cut  in  Hyde  Park.  If  Lady  B.  does 
the  same  thing  people  go  to  her  parties  just  the 
same. 

Moreover  in  mixed  Clubs — Clubs  where  both 
sexes  meet — women  as  often  as  not  lose  their 
money  to  men.  Chivalry  forbids  that  the 
stronger  sex  should  be  exacting.  An  irregular 
and  unpunctual  habit  is  consequently  fostered, 
and  women,  frequently  young  unmarried  women, 
go  about  under  pecuniary  obligations  to  the  men 
that  they  meet  in  Society  every  other  afternoon. 
A  more  demoralizing  condition  of  things  it  is 


1 8  THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY 

difficult  to  imagine,  and  it  is  needless  to  lay  stress 
on  its  occasional  results. 

As  a  rule  when  a  thing  is  thoroughly  bad 
and  everybody  knows  it,  everybody  says  nothing. 
But  sometimes  Society  suddenly  becomes  as  can- 
did, as  it  is  cynical.  There  had  been  "a  little 
trouble"  over  more  than  one  member  of  the 
Pontifex  Club,  and  the  Committee — it  was  a 
very  "Smart"  Committee — had  put  its  foot  down. 
So  far,  however,  Lady  Marion  had  escaped. 
But  the  friends  of  those  who  had  been  compelled 
to  an  abnormal  morality  complained.  First  one 
whispered,  then  another  talked  out  loud — and  so 
the  gossip  ran.  Lady  Goldbury  had  heard  it. 
Marion  was  "a  bad  parter."  She  knew  it.  Now 
she  anxiously  wondered  why?  Whatever  may 
have  happened  in  the  past,  she  entertained  an 
uncomfortable  suspicion  that  Marion  did  not  pay 
her  gambling  debts  because  she  couldn't — not  be- 
cause she  wouldn't.  If  she  were  suddenly  called 
on  to  find  over  two  hundred  pounds  for  her  sis- 
ter, the  embarrassment  might  be  serious.  In 
view  of  the  present  mood  of  the  Committee  the 
consequences  might  be  socially  disastrous  for 


THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY*  i9( 

Gwen.  This  was  a  thing  that  Lady  Goldbury 
in  the  goodness  of  her  heart  was  determined  to 
avoid. 

"Come,  come,"  she  said,  patting  the  girl's 
hand,  "Don't  cry,  Gwen — people  will  notice  it, 
you  don't  want  to  advertise  your  bad  luck. 
Besides,  you've  only  been  doing  what  we  all  do 
in  this  idiotic  place,  and  it's  frightened  you. 
Now  I — er — don't  like  secrets — but — er — if  I 
were  you  I  wouldn't  tell  my  sister  for  a  day  or 
two." 

"I  must!" 

"Why?" 

"Because  I  must  pay  Mrs.  Murgatroyd  by 
twelve  to-morrow — she  said  so,  and  so — so  sternly 
• — and  I  haven't  the  money  myself " 

"Of  course.  But — look  here — will  you  promise 
me  something?" 

"Promise?" 

"Yes.  Promise  me  you  will  never  play  Bridge 
again." 

"I'll  never  touch  a  card  again  as  long  as  I 
live!" 

"Hum.      Park  Lane's   paved   with   good   in- 


20  THE   SINS   OF    SOCIETY 

tendons.       Swear     off     Bridge     for     a     start." 

"Indeed,  yes!" 

"That's  right.  And  now — just  for  a  week  or 
two — till  your  sister  has  a  lucky  day,  or  you  find 
a  good  opportunity  for  telling  her — er — let  me 
be  your  Banker." 

"Lady  Goldbury " 

"It's  my  trade,  you  know." 

"I— I  can't " 

"Twaddle!" 

Lady  Goldbury  unclasped  the  gold  satchel  that 
hung  on  her  arm  and  turned  a  bundle  of  notes 
onto  her  lap. 

"It's  here  in  'ready',"  she  said,  ignoring  pro- 
test, and  counting  the  money  rapidly  as  she 
talked. 

"Two  fives — I'll  talk  to  Murgatroyd — six  fives 
— one  of  these  days — creature — ten  fives — fifty — 
talk  of  Sparrow  Hawks — and  fifty's  a  hundred — 
she'd  play  baccarat  with  a  baby  in  its  bassinette 
and  rook  it  of  its  rattle! — and  forty's  two  hun- 
dred— three  tenners — right — there  you  are,  that's 
the  lot!" 

As    she    squeezed    the    money    into    Gwen's 


THE    SINS   OF   SOCIETY  21 

hand  the  girl  blushed  scarlet  to  the  ears — and 
Lady  Goldbury  liked  it.  It  was  genuine. 
Whatever  feminine  accomplishments  may  be 
acquired  later,  you  cannot  at  seventeen  pretend 
to  blush,  even  in  Society!  So  Lady  Goldbury 
beamed,  snapped  her  satchel  and  rose,  while 
Gwen  tried  to  stammer,  "I — I  don't  know  how  to 
thank  you " 

"Don't  try,"  cut  in  the  Banker's  Widow,  "but 
don't  forget  your  promise,  dear." 

"Indeed,  indeed,  I  shan't.  I  should  never  have 
played  at  all,  only — only  everyone  comes  here 
nowadays " 

"More's  the  pity  I" 

"And  when  I  came  day  after  day,  to  wait 
for  Marion,  and  hear  people  talk  nothing  but 
Bridge,  Bridge,  Bridge  .  .  .  Bridge !  by  the  hour, 
it  was  so  dull  never  playing  oneself." 

"Of  course." 

"And  as  all  my  girl  friends  do " 

"I  know." 

"Though  7  ought  to  have  known  better.  I 
knew  what  Dora  Langton  lost." 

"To  whom?" 


22  THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY 

"O — to  Mrs.  Murgatroyd.  And  I  remember1 
the  scandal  there  was  when  the  Moorfields  had 
to  let  their  town  house  because  Kitty  lost  in  one 
night " 

"Yes,  I  heard.    Who  won  that  time?" 

"Mrs.  Murgatroyd — hasn't  she  wonderful 
luck?" 

"Luck?  Yes,  and  knows  how  to  help  it  a 
bit,  I  should  say.  Was  it  ever  reported  to  the 
Committee?" 

"I  think  not.  You  know  people  hate  making 
a  fuss " 

"I  don't!  And  I  will,  too.  It's  disgraceful. 
If  no  one  else  dare  speak — I  will  and  what's 
more " 

Lady  Goldburj  stopped  short.  A  small 
door  marked  "Private:  Committee  only,"  had 
quietly  opened  and  an  ominous,  impressive  figure 
loomed  high  at  the  head  of  the  staircase. 

"Ah!  The  very  woman  I  want,"  whispered 
Lady  Goldbury,  "Carrotty  Caroline  herself!" 

Nobody  else  would  have  dared,  even  to 
think  so  irreverently  of  Caroline,  Duchess  of 
Danebury.  For  she  was  a  very  great  Lady 


THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY;  23 

indeed.  Tall,  spare,  angular,  aquiline,  impas- 
sive, deliberate,  very  stiff  and  very  rich,  an 
Aristocrat  of  the  Past  who  barely  tolerated  the 
Present — and  let  the  Present  know  it.  She 
was  of  the  Class  that  walks  unmoved  to  a 
Revolutionary  Scaffold  merely  asking  for  a 
scent  bottle  to  obscure  the  odor  of  the  mob! 
Men  who  had  dined  with  Kings  pined  in  vain 
for  her  invitations.  It  was  told  of  her  that 
after  being  introduced  about  six  times  to  the 
especial  pet  of  a  particular  season,  the  Repre- 
sentative of  a  small  European  Power,  she 
continued  to  cut  him  dead.  Somebody  dared 
to  expostulate,  and  added,  "Really,  my  dear 
Duchess,  you  know  he  is  the  So-and-So  Am- 
bassador." 

"Exactly,"  the  Duchess  replied,  "one  must 
draw  the  line  somewhere."  And  in  spite  of  the 
most  Exalted  protestations  she  continued  relent- 
lessly to  draw  it. 

Such  was  the  personality  that  Lady  Goldbury 
determined  to  tackle,  and  she  braced  herself  for 
the  fray  as  the  Duchess,  leaning  on  her  ebony 
crutch  handled  stick,  came  slowly  down  the  stairs 


24  THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY 

— her  dress  and  sweeping  hat  both  of  the  very 
latest  and  rather  juvenile  modern  fashion,  and 
the  bright  henna  dye  on  her  wiry  white  hair,  con- 
trasting curiously  and  almost  comically  with  her 
faded  watery  blue  eyes  and  her  stiff,  halting  gait. 
But  there  was  nothing  funny  about  an  interview 
with  the  Duchess.  The  Committee  knew  it.  She 
was  Lady-President  of  the  Club.  And  the  Club 
knew  it.  Lady  Goldbury  knew  it,  too,  and  she 
set  her  jaw.  Gwen  knew  it  also,  and  rose  in 
some  embarrassment,  but  just  at  that  moment 
the  big  glass  doors  swung  open,  and  Mrs.  Mur- 
gatroyd  returned. 

"Quick,"  said  Lady  Goldbury,  "there  you  are, 
go  and  get  it  over  at  once.  But  don't  tell  her 
who  helped  you — it  will  annoy  her  so,  guessing!" 

And  it  did.  She  sat  and  purred  with  Gwen 
in  the  tea  room  trying  to  find  out.  But  failed. 
Behind  the  mystery,  she  scented  a  possible  scandal. 
And  ready  cash  is  no  consolation  for  ignorance, 
when  you  really  enjoy  speaking  ill  of  your  neigh- 
bor. 

Meantime  Lady  Goldbury,  planted  at  the  bot- 
tom of  the  staircase,  fired  off  a  rather  aggressive 


25 

and  staccato  "Duchess — er — Duchess,"  at  the  de- 
scending figure. 

The  Duchess  paused,  blinked  for  a  deliber- 
ate moment  through  her  pince-nez,  then  said 
in  a  slow,  level  voice,  "Lady  Goldbury — isn't 
it?" 

"Yes.    You  remember  me?" 

"Distinctly.  The  instant  I  heard  your  voice 
I  knew  it  could  be  nobody  else." 

There  was  not  the  ghost  of  a  sneer  in  the 
words,  but  somehow  they  sounded  like  the  raw 
statement  of  a  rather  disagreeable  fact.  Lady 
Goldbury  bridled  a  little,  and  snapped  shortly, 
"Thanks! — Now — er — you  sit  on  the  Commit- 
tee." 

"Frequently,"  said  the  Duchess.  This  was 
another  fact! 

"Very  well,  then!"  blurted  out  Lady  Gold- 
bury.  "What  I  want  to  know  is  how  long  are 
you  going  to  let  that  Murgatroyd  madam  come 
here  and " 

"One  moment,"  interrupted  the  Duchess  calmly, 
"Are  you  referring  to  the  Honorable  Mrs.  Mur- 
gatroyd ?" 


26  THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY; 

"Yes,  I  am!"  came  the  angry  answer — "if 
you  call  it  'honorable'  to  come  here  and  fleece 
children  in  pinafores — rook  babies  in  arms ! — and 
-and " 

The  Duchess  checked  the  torrent  of  invective 
with  a  warning  wave  of  her  tortoise-shell  lor- 
gnettes. "Is  this  a  specific  allegation?"  she  in- 
quired frigidly. 

Lady  Goldbury  was  going  a  little  bit  too 
far  and  she  knew  it,  so  for  the  moment  she  con- 
trolled her  wrath,  sniffed  impressively,  looked 
unutterable  things  and  only  said,  "O  dear,  no! 
Of  course  not!  It's  a  hint— that's  all!  But  I 
think  you  know  what  I  mean!" 

"I  am  sorry,  Lady  Goldbury,"  came  the  im- 
perturbable answer,  "but  since  you  compel  the 
avowal  I  do  not  know  what  you  mean." 

"Then  I'll  put  it  in  once,"  blazed  the  Widow. 

"Put  it  in  a  letter  to  the  Committee." 

"I'll  put  it  in  a  nutshell." 

"It  is  no  good  there.  Put  it  in  black  and 
white." 

"Skittles,  Duchess!  That's  all  my  eye  and 
Betty  Martin " 


JHE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY  27 

"I  do  not  know  Miss  Martin  and  she  is  not 
a  Member  of  the  Club." 

"But  Gwendolin  Ashley  is,  and  I  say,  are  you 
going  to  let  a  child  like  that  come  here  and  lose 
her  money  to  a  woman  of  the  World " 

"If  she  chooses,  Lady  Goldbury.  It  is  her  own 
business.  This'  is  a  Card  Club,  not  a  Kinder- 
garten. In  the  absence  of  any  specific  allegation 
I  can  only  say  that  if  the  girl  has  lost  money 
I  hope  she  will  pay  it  punctually."  The  Duchess 
looked  Lady  Goldbury  very  straight  in  the  face 
and  there  was  an  uncomfortably  metallic  ring  in 
her  voice  as  she  went  on  "since  of  late  the  Com- 
mittee has  had  seriously  to  consider  the  course  it 
should  pursue  towards  members  who  pay  too  little 
and  play  too  much." 

"If  you  mean  Me,  your  Grace !" 

"I  don't.  If  I  did  I  should  say  so.  I  am 
always  definite.  I  am  saying  that  we  mean  to 
stop  people  in  this  Club  gambling — as  no  doubt 
you  would  put  it — 'on  the  nod.'  The  Committee 
will  make  an  example — will  begin,  if  need  be,  with 
the  Chief  offender  and ' 

"Chief?— Why,  who  ...   ?" 


28  THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY 

.  .  .  The  big  glass  doors  swung  wide  as  Lady 
Marion  Beaumont  swept  into  the  Hall. 

For  the  fraction  of  a  second  the  thin  eye- 
brows of  the  Duchess  rose,  and  her  pale  lips 
contracted  grimly.  Then  she  turned  to  the  new- 
comer and  Lady  Goldbury  watched  very  anxiously 
the  manner  of  her  greeting. 

"Marion  Beaumont  is  a  'bad  parter'." 

.  .  .  That  was  the  whisper  in  the  Club.  That 
was  the  muttered  scandal. 

Was  she  going  to  be  openly  told  of  it?  Lady 
Goldbury  forgot,  however,  that  Marion  was 
"born."  Her  mother  was  a  Devonshire  Courte- 
nay:  her  father  was  the  ninth  Marquis  of  Usk. 
She  herself  might  have  been  a  Countess  had 
her  husband  lived.  She  was  not  the  kind  of  of- 
fender upon  whom  the  Duchess  would  let  the 
Sword  of  Damocles  fall  without  a  word  of  warn- 
ing. Moreover,  the  Duchess  knew  what  had  hap- 
pened in  the  Card  room,  so  the  moment  was 
opportune.  And  with  her  usual  imperturbable 
directness  she  took  it. 

Therefore,  when  Lady  Marion  looked  up  at 
the  clock  and  said,  "Not  going  yet,  surely,  Duch- 


29 

ess — lots  of  time  for  a  rubber,"  she  replied.  "Are 
you  going  to  play?" 

"I  think  so,"  said  Lady  Marion. 

And  the  Duchess  said,  "Don't." 

"Don't?— but  why  not?" 

"Your  Luck's  out." 

"My  luck " 

"Yes.  Family  Luck — your  Luck — your  sister's 
Luck." 

"Gwen? — I  assure  you  she  never  plays." 

"She  has  been  playing — this  afternoon — and 
losing — heavily." 

"Losing ! — how — how  much  ?" 

"Ask  Mrs.  Murgatroyd,  and  pay  her  promptly, 
if  I  may  advise.  She  talks — like  a  great  many 
other  people  in  the  Club  lately — about  unsettled 
debts.  I  shouldn't  play  against  my  luck  if  I  were 
you.  Luck  isn't  like  a  man — it  won't  be  bullied 
and  it  can't  be  coaxed.  Take  my  advice." 

Without  another  word  the  Duchess  moved 
slowly  away  to  a  table  near  the  door  and  sat 
down  to  write  a  note. 

Agitated  and  flushed,  Lady  Marion  turned 
quickly  to  Lady  Goldbury.  Since  the  Duchess 


30  THE   SINS   OF    SOCIETY 

had  told,  it  was  usely  to  deny  the  Truth.  Yes. 
Gwen  had  been  playing,  and  losing,  "but  don't 
scold  her  too  much,"  Lady  Goldbury  pleaded, 
"she's  quite  cut  up  enough — and  frightened." 

"At  the  amount  she  lost?  Was  it — was  it 
much  .  .  .  ?" 

"Two-thirty." 

"Two  hundred  and  thirty  pounds!  Good 
gracious,  how  does  she  dream  she  can  ever  pay 
it?" 

"Don't  know.  But  she's  not  the  only  one  who 
plays  beyond  her  means.  Still  as  it's  the  first  time, 
and  the  child  was  upset — I — er — I  let  her  draw 
on  me" 

"You  paid  it!  O  my  dear — really — it's  too 
good  of  you,  I — I — can't  allow  it — I " 

"That's  all  right.  You  can  send  me  your 
check." 

"Yes,  yes.  Of  course,  and  I  will — I — and 
you've  been  so  good  to  me  yourself, 
already!" 

"I  wish  you'd  put  yourself  under  another  obli- 
gation  " 

"Another ?" 


THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY  31 

"Yes.  Pull  yourself  together,  Marion.  You 
are  plunging  and  you'll  come  a  cropper." 

"I — I  want  to  stop,  believe  me — and  I  will 
directly " 

"Yes,  I  know,  directly  the  double  event  comes 
off.  You  are  plunging  to  get  home.  It's  a  fine 
game  if  you  win.  But  if  you  plunge  deep  enough 
some  day  you  won't  come  up.  So  turn  it 
upj" 

"That's  what  the  Duchess  says  .  .  .  ' 

"She's  right  about  one  thing.  People  who 
can't  pay  shouldn't  play." 

"Did  she  say  that  to  you?" 

"Yes,  and  that  the  Committee  meant  to 
stop  it  I" 

"In— deed " 

"High  time  too,  dear.  If  we  weren't  in  Society 
people  who  gambled  for  what  they  couldn't  pay 
would  be  called  'Swindlers'." 

"Swindlers!--" 

"That's  what  we  call  'em  in  the  City  of 
London." 

"Really!  I  thought  you  called  them  Company 
Promoters." 


32  THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY- 

"Like  your  friend,  Mr.  Noel  Ferrers?  Where 
on  Earth  did  you  meet  that  man?" 

"I  don't  know.  Here,  I  think.  He  gives  me 
excellent  tips." 

"About  what  to  buy  in  the  'bucket  shop'." 

"I  find  he  is  always  right." 

"And  he  finds  you  always  useful.  Your  house 
is  his  open  door  into  the  Fool's  paradise  where 
he  goes  guinea  pig  hunting — and  gathering  bait 
for  his  'mug  traps'." 

"O  nonsense — he  has  plenty  of  money " 

"On  paper." 

"Knows  a  lot  of  people." 

"Thanks  to  you!" 

"O  no — when  a  man  owns  race  horses " 

"Across  the  Turf  is  a  short  cut  into  So- 
ciety  " 

"Believe  me,  I  have  found  him  a  very  good 
friend — a  very  real  friend — often  when  I've  been 
worried  and  wanted — er — advice.  When  a 
woman  is  alone  in  the  world  she  must  have  some- 
one to  lean  on.  If  unconsciously  I  have  learned 
to  lean  on  him  .  .  .  ' 

"Drop  him,"  said  Lady  Goldbury  decisively, 


THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY  33 

"drop  him,  or  you'll  drop  your  money — then  he'll 
drop  you,  and — talk  of  the  Devil !" 

Tall,  broad  shouldered,  dark,  sleek,  smiling 
and  sinister  Noel  Ferrers  stood  at  the  door. 
What  could  there  be  in  common  between  a 
woman  like  Marion  Beaumont  and  himself? 
Lady  Goldbury  stared  and  wondered.  Then 
there  came  back  to  her  mind  the  bitter  comment 
of  old  Sir  George  Drake  when  first  "the  Ash- 
ley Girls"  dawned  on  Town.  "Gwen's  a  race 
horse,"  he  said,  one  day  as  they  passed  the  Turf 
Club  window  "clean  bred  as  Eclipse.  But  on  her 
looks  Marion  would  take  the  seven  pound  allow- 
ance!" 

According  to  the  Laws  of  Racing  thorough- 
bred horses  of  the  same  age  carry  the  same 
weight  in  "Classic  Events,"  but  for  horses  that 
have  a  half-bred  strain  in  them  an  allowance  of 
seven  pounds  less  can  be  claimed.  There  was 
no  known  blot  on  the  Ashley  escutcheon,  no 
fault  in  the  pedigree,  but  the  Ashley  girls  were 
hopelessly  unalike.  Gwen  was  a  Sevres  china 
shepherdess  incarnate.  Marion  was  almost  Orien- 
tal. Tall,  sinuous,  sweeping,  she  always  burst 


34  THE    SINS   OF   SOCIETY 

rather  than  walked  into  a  room,  looking  as  Sir 
George  said,  "as  if  she  had  a  deuce  of  a  mes- 
sage— and  never  delivered  it!"  Her  deep,  dark, 
lustrous  eyes  he  described  quite  correctly,  if  un- 
kindly, as  "Headlights  in  front  of  an  empty  van!" 
She  had  a  curious  trick  of  throwing  back  a  stray 
coil  of  raven  black  hair  from  her  low,  white 
forehead,  with  the  third  finger  of  her  left  hand, 
as  tho'  she  wanted  more  room  to  think — but  she 
never  uttered  a  solitary  word  suggesting  any  sort 
or  kind  of  intelligent  reflection.  "When  they 
made  Marion,"  said  Sir  George,  "they  forgot 
nothing — except  brains." 

Handsome,  heavy,  a  shade  underhung,  she 
was,  however,  stupid  and  obstinate  rather  than 
foolish.  Her  negative  qualities  were  excellent. 
Her  moral  character  was  beyond  reproach.  Ad- 
miration was  her  due,  and  she  accepted  it  as 
a  sort  of  natural  right,  but  her  name  had  never 
been  tainted  with  the  faintest  breath  of  scandal. 
She  was  much  older  than  Gwen.  Too  old  to 
be  a  sister,  but  not  old  enough  to  be  a  mother. 
Yet  when  they  were  left  orphans  she  tried  to 
mother  the  girl-^on  strictly  conventional  lines. 


THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY  35 

Saw  that  she  was  educated — saw  that  she  was 
"brought  out,"  in  accordance  with  the  most 
correct  traditions.  She  had  never  been  in  love 
— not  even  with  her  husband,  and  she  enjoyed 
the  complete  freedom  of  widowhood,  which  in 
fact  was  a  misfortune.  Marion  Beaumont  wanted 
a  strong,  guiding  hand,  and  there  was  none 
to  guide.  Wherever  it  came  from,  the  drop  of 
Oriental  blood  that  filtered  down  into  her  veins 
from  some  forgotten  adventure  of  the  past  in- 
clined her  to  indolence  and  luxury.  She  found 
no  relaxation  in  the  more  serious  interests  of  the 
hour.  Politics — at  least  for  women — she  con- 
sidered "bad  form."  Athletics,  unbecoming.  Art 
bored  her — tho'  she  liked  pretty  things  in  the 
ordinary  feminine  way — jewels — silk — soft  lights 
— the  pleasant  clamor  of  a  smart  restaurant — 
and  the  obvious  impression  that  she  made  it. 
Also,  not  for  itself  but  for  what  it  could  com- 
mand, she  liked  money.  And  she  had  not  quite 
enough.  In  her  husband's  time  she  had  lived  in 
a  certain  style.  On  her  jointure  her  establish- 
ment should  have  been  reduced.  But  it  was  not. 
She  got  into  debt.  She  had  to  dip  into  her 


36  THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY 

capital.  This  reduced  her  income.  But  she  did 
not  reduce  her  expenditure.  The  difference  had 
to  come  from  somewhere,  and  she  sought  it  on 
the  Stock  Exchange  and  at  the  cardtable  where 
Luck  is  proverbially  good  to  beginners. 

She  was  not  a  gambler  at  heart.  But  all 
Society  gambles  more  or  less.  She  had  "punted" 
mildly  with  the  others — played  for  a  sovereign — 
backed  horses  for  a  five  pound  note.  She  had 
often  won.  Nothing  was  more  easy  and  natural 
than  to  increase  her  stakes  and  to  take  a  feverish 
interest  in  the  result,  not  for  the  gamble's  own 
sake,  but  for  what  she  would  do  with  her  win- 
nings. A  long-price  winner  at  Sandown  meant 
a  check  for  her  dressmaker.  A  rise  in  Kaffirs 
meant  a  quarter's  rent — and  so  on.  Lots  of 
people  live  like  this  who  would  not  soil  their 
hands  with  work.  When  things  go  wrong  they 
grow  desperate.  And  things  were  going  very 
wrong  with  Marion  Beaumont. 

At  such  a  time  she  could  not  have  had  a 
worse  Counsellor  than  Noel  Ferrers.  It  did  not 
pay  him  to  let  her  get  too  much  out  of  debt. 
She  was  under  obligations  to  him,  and  it  served 


THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY  37 

his  purpose  to  keep  her  there.  Women  like 
Marion  were  the  opportunity  of  men  like 
Noel. 

The  extravagant  spirit  of  the  age,  the  wild 
scramble  for  money  at  any  price,  has  permitted 
the  entry  into  Society  of  the  professional  money- 
maker. If  he  is  very  successful  a  crowd  of 
sycophants  cling  to  his  skirts.  To  be  "Some- 
thing in  the  City"  is  no  longer  a  reproach. 
Younger  sons  of  the  Best  Families  are  found 
in  City  Offices  where  they  are  tolerated  for  the 
patronage  they  bring.  In  return,  their  employ- 
ers are  tolerated  in  Mayfair — then  welcomed, 
sometimes  run  after.  Nobody  inquires  too  closely 
about  their  antecedents  so  long  as  a  golden 
shower  besprinkles  their  path.  So  nobody  asked 
who  Noel  Ferrers  was  or  where  he  came  from. 
He  had  a  rather  ornate  flat  in  Bond  Street.  He 
did  things  correctly.  Drove  in  the  Park,  played 
Bridge,  gave  discreet  dinners,  raced  successfully 
but  modestly,  and  was  known  to  be  very  keen  in 
the  City. 

But  in  the  City  so  far  as  business  was 
concerned,  there  were  lots  of  people  who  were 


3*          FTHE  SINS  OF  SOCIETY 

keener !  Ferrers  had  all  the  aptitudes  and  natural 
instincts  of  the  high  class  adventurer.  He  judged 
rightly  that  in  the  West  End  he  would  find  his 
most  favorable  opportunities.  So  he  had  fre- 
quented the  smartest  Restaurants,  attended  the 
best  "first  nights,"  and  had  generally  been  "seen 
about"  until  both  his  face  and  name  were  fairly 
familiar  in  Mayfair,  and  his  presence  anywhere 
did  not  attract  comment.  The  next  step  was 
easy.  Stock-brokering  is  just  at  present  rather  a 
depressed  industry.  A  big  speculator  is  a  client 
to  be  carefully  sought-after,  whatever  you  may 
think  of  his  operations.  A  few  orders  judiciously 
placed  with  a  Firm,  the  junior  Partner  in  which 
was  the  younger  son  of  an  impoverished  peer,  very 
soon  brought  Social  recognition — cards  for  "at 
homes"  and  an  invitation  or  so,  to  dinner.  Then 
a  chance  introduction  to  Marion  Beaumont,  and 
a  quick  appreciation  of  her  character  and  necessi- 
ties, opened  the  coveted  door,  and  Noel  Ferrers 
unobtrusively  slid  into  Society. 

Having  gained  his  foothold,  he  would  in  the 
ordinary  course  have  passed  on,  leaving  the 
recollection  of  pecuniary  advantages  and  a  good 


THE  SINS  OF   SOCIETY;  39 

reputation  behind  him.  But  in  the  course  of  his 
visits  to  Marion  he  had  frequently  met  Gwen, 
and  his  rather  brutish  soul,  accustomed  to  more 
tawdry  amours,  was  at  once  inspired  and  inflamed 
by  her  sweetness  and  delicate  beauty.  At  first 
he  tried  to  put  the  infatuation  out  of  his  mind. 
But  the  passion  only  grew,  till  it  lived  with  him 

and  possessed  him  night  and  day.    In  his  manner 

i 
to  Gwen  he  was  reserved — deferential — almost  too 

deferential,  for  the  girl  instinctively  realized 
that  there  was  some  undisclosed  meaning,  or, 
purpose,  behind  his  constrained  and  obviously 
artificial  address.  When  he  tried  to  be  interesting 
he  felt  that  he  was  a  bore.  So  did  she,  and  he 
knew  it.  This  piqued  his  vanity,  excited  his  anger, 
but  did  not  abate  his  ardor. 

Though  she  did  not  love  him,  and  probably 
never  would,  he  meant  to  marry  Gwendolin 
Ashley  by  fair  means  or  by  foul. 

And  he  was  a  very  resourceful,  unscrupulous, 
and  determined  man. 

Still,  when  he  calmly  and  deliberately  added 
up  his  chances  he  knew  that  they  were  small. 
Daily  they  seemed  to  grow  smaller.  He  feared 


40  THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY 

that  the  girl  had  begun  to  suspect,  and  distrust 
— if  not  positively  to  dislike  him.  His  only  hope 
of  success  lay  in  having  Marion  not  only  on  his 
side,  but  absolutely  under  his  thumb.  Yet  he 
judged  quite  correctly  that  a  mere  monetary 
obligation  was  not  quite  enough  for  his  purpose. 
Wary,  watchful,  ever  waiting  for  an  opportunity, 
it  was  into  his  arms  that  the  Fates  drove  Marion 
at  the  moment  of  her  extremity.  "Facilis 
descensus.  ..."...  ! 

When  Marion  tripped  on  the  Downward 
Path,  here  was  a  Spirit  of  Evil  ready  to  drag 
her  lower  still. 

She  turned  almost  in  resentment  from  the 
brusque  honesty  of  the  Banker's  Widow,  and 
waited  impatiently  while  the  Duchess  who  had 
button-holed  Ferrers  slowly  cross-examined  him — 
for  it  was  a  habit  of  the  Duchess  when  she  wanted 
information  to  ask  for  it  so  suddenly  and  directly 
that  the  person  interrogated  had  rarely  time  to 
frame  a  lie. 

So,  directly  Ferrers  entered  the  Club  the  Duch- 
ess tapped  him  on  the  arm  and  said,  "Are  you 
going  over  to  Paris  for  the  Grand  Prix,  Mr.  Fer- 


THE   SINS   OF    SOCIETY  41 

rers?"  He  answered  evasively,  and  the  Duchess 
went  on,  "How  will  your  horse,  The  Dragon, 
run?" 

"In  the  ordinary  way,  Duchess,  on  all  fours !" 
Ferrers  answered  quickly.  The  question  was 
exactly  what  he  expected.  It  is  one  racing  men 
particularly  dislike.  But  the  Duchess  was  not  to 
be  put  off. 

"Do  you  think  he  will  win?"  she  asked. 

"Have  you  backed  him?"  he  replied. 

"Not  yet.     But  he  is  at  a  nice  long  price " 

"Thirty  to  one.    Quite  so." 

"I  should  like  to  have  a  flutter — if  you  thought 
I  could  do  no  harm." 

She  certainly  could  do  harm.  She  could 
spoil  his  market  if  she  talked!  Still  the 
Duchess  was  the  Duchess.  He  could  not 
exactly  put  her  off,  so  he  discreetly  assumed  an 
air  of  mysterious  confidence  and  sinking  his 
voice  said,  "To  tell  the  truth,  Duchess — the  real 
truth,  I  have  not  tried  him  yet.  But  he'll  have 
a  rough  up  in  a  day  or  two,  and  then  I  shall  be 
most  pleased  to  tell  you,  if  you  will  permit  me 
the  honor — in  strict  confidence,  of  course — " 


-42  [THE  SINS  OF   SOCIETY! 

His  voice  sank  lower  still,  and  his  manner 
became  that  of  a  Cabinet  Minister  imparting 
a  State  Secret  to  his  most  trusted  friend — while 
in  his  innermost  heart  of  hearts  he  profoundly 
wished  the  Duchess  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea.  He 
could  see  that  Marion  was  waiting  to  speak  to 
him,  and  just  as  he  hoped  to  escape,  another 
interruption  came  that  brought  a  quick,  ugly 
scowl  to  Noel  Ferrers'  face,  for  he  heard 
the  door  swing  behind  him  and  heard  the  voice 
of  Dorian  March.  Without  seeing  him  he  knew 
that  he  was  looking  round  eagerly  for  Gwen. 
And  he  knew  that  Gwen  would  be  delighted  when 
they  met. 

Sir  Dorian  March  was  her  cousin  certainly, 
but  of  late  Gwen  had  begun  to  evince  a  rather 
more  than  cousinly  preference  for  his  companion- 
ship. 

And  she  had  reason. 

When  a  young  Greek  god  goes  abroad  in 
the  regimentals  of  the  Household  Cavalry,  and 
the  possession  of  a  faultless  birth,  an  historic 
Title,  a  laughing  mouth  and  the  affectionately 
pathetic  eyes  of  the  best  bred  Collie  dog,  his 


THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY  43 

path  is  littered  with  the  darts  of  Cupid  and 
echoes  with  sentimental  sighs.  When  you  are  so 
nearly  related  to  such  an  idol  that  you  may  with 
propriety  call  it  by  a  pet  name  and  greet  it  with 
platonic  kisses,  the  result  is  a  foregone  con- 
clusion. 

As  old  Sir  George  Drake  said,  "Why  waste 
time  courtin'?  Marry,  and  get  it  over." 

There  was  only  one  obstacle.  Dorian  was 
poor.  So  it  was  not  an  open  engagement.  In- 
deed it  was  not  even  a  secret  one,  for  Gwen 
was  not  yet  of  age,  and  neither  the  mistress  of 
her  destinies  nor  of  her  income — about  £700  a 
year. 

In  a  few  months'  time  things  might  be  different. 
Noel  Ferrers  knew  it. 

Marion  had  to  find  the  money  that  Gwen 
had  lost. 

It  was  not  a  large  sum  but  she  had  not 
got  it. 

'And  it  was  to  'Noel  Ferrers  that  she  turned  for 
advice  I 

By  a  perverse  and  unhappy  chance  Dorian 
March,  of  all  people,  elected  quite  unconsciously 


44  THE   SINS   OF    SOCIETY 

to  pile  fuel  on  the  fire  and  precipitate  an  even 
graver  crisis. 

UO  there  you  are,  Marion,"  he  said,  directly 
he  entered.  "Made  up  a  set  yet?" 

In  the  presence  of  the  Duchess  and  remem- 
bering her  warning,  Marion  hesitated  in  some 
embarrassment  and  faltered,  "Eh — o — er — no — 
not  yet " 

"Well,  here  we  are,"  cut  in  Dorian.  "Only 
want  one  more.  You'll  play,  Lady  Goldbury?" 

"No,  thanks,"  snapped  the  Widow.  "Seen 
enough  for  one  day.  I'm  going  home." 

"Really?"  said  Dorian.  "So  sorry,"  and  be- 
fore Marion  could  stop  him  he  turned  to  the 
Duchess,  and  asked  if  she  would  take  a  hand. 

"Who  with?"  inquired  the  great  lady. 

"My  cousin  Marion  and  myself." 

"No,  thank  you,"  came  the  deliberate  tone- 
less answer.  "Marion  is  out  of  luck.  I  would 
rather  not  win  her  money." 

"Dooced  nice  of  you,"  laughed  Dorian. 
"You'll  play,  of  course,  Ferrers " 

"Delighted  if " 

"I'll    draw   the    card    room    for    a    fourth." 


45 

Dorian  scampered  up  the  big  staircase  and  dis- 
appeared. The  Duchess  looked  after  him  for  a 
moment,  glanced  for  a  second  at  Marion — a  fate- 
ful second,  in  which  she  made  up  her  cool,  in- 
flexible mind — then  she  asked  Ferrers,  "Have  you 
seen  Thesiger,  anywhere?" 

"What,  the  Club  Secretary?" 

"Yes." 

"I  think  he's  in  his  office.     Shall  I  see?" 

"No,  thanks.    I'll  go  myself." 

"If  I  can  take  a  message " 

"No.  It's  an  order  I  had  better  deliver  per- 
sonally." 

"Er — something  gone  wrong,  Duchess?" 

"Not  yet.  But  somebody  who  won't  take  a 
hint,  I  fear  must  have  a  lesson.  I  don't  like 
it.  But  in  some  cases  it's  more  than  cruel  to  be 
too  kind.  Anyway,  I  won't  have  a  scandal  in  the 
Club  so  long  as  I  am  President." 

Looking  neither  right  nor  left  the  Duchess 
climbed  again  to  the  door  marked  "Private. 
Committee  Only."  Marion  had  caught  her  last 
few  words  and  watched  her  disappear  with  a 
sinking  heart.  She  came  quickly  to  Ferrers' 


46  THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY 

side,  as  Lady  Goldbury  rustled  away  to  the  Tea- 
room, and  asked  anxiously,  "Where  has  the 
Duchess  gone?" 

"To  the  Secretary,  she  said." 

"What  for?" 

"O — somebody  has  been  naughty,  and  is  to 
have  a  hint — a  warning,  or  something.  I  don't 
know  who." 

"I — I  can  guess.  Look  here,  I  want  to  see  you 
particularly — er — will  you  dine  to-night?" 

"Delighted!  By  the  way — might  I  bring 
a  feller  to  introduce?  He's  bringing  out  a  very 
big  company  and  might  be  very  useful — you  un- 
derstand— and  would  appreciate " 

"Yes,  yes,  certainly — but  I  wanted  to  talk " 

"Finance?" 

"Yes.  You  know  my  shares — those  Rose- 
fonteins?" 

"Believe  me,  hold  them.  To-day  they  are 
comparatively  worthless,  but " 

"But  I  must  have  money!  I  know  what's 
coming.  I've  had  a  shocking  week — I  can't 
pay.  I  shall  be  posted — posted  as  a  defaulter 
— here  in  the  Club.  It  will  bring  down  every 


THE  SINS  OF   SOCIETY;  47 

creditor  I've  got  upon  my  head — and — and  there's 
£230  I  must  return  to  Lady  Goldbury  for 
Gwen." 

Ferrers  turned  sharply,  "For  Gwen — not  for 
cards?" 

"Yes.  It's  my  fault — I  ought  never  to 
have  let  her  come  here — but  she  liked  it — liked 
to  meet  Dorian " 

"I've  noticed  that." 

"Well — we're  cousins " 

"I  detest  cousins." 

"Can  I  raise  nothing  on  those  shares?" 

"Nothing!" 

"Then  what  can  I  do!  If  the  Duchess 
speaks " 

"Well — let's  think  a  minute.  You  have  a  small 
annuity  from  your  late  husband  that  you  can't 
anticipate.  You've  never  exactly  told  me  how 
your  private  fortune " 

"It  was  the  same  as  Gwen's — and  it's  gone! 
I've  spent  it — like  a  fool — thrown  it  away. 
I've  been  bitten  by  the  crazes  of  the  hour,  ex- 
travagance— and  gambling.  Now  the  taint's  in 
my  blood  and  I  can't  stop.  I'm  not  a  woman 


48  THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY 

any  more — I'm  a  gambling  machine  and  a  broken, 
ruined  one  at  that!" 

For  a  moment  she  sobbed  hysterically,  and 
Ferrers  looked  around  to  see  that  they  were  not 
overheard. 

"I  am  awfully  sorry,"  he  said,  "really,  most 
awfully  sorry.  I — er — I'd  no  idea  it  was  as  bad 
as  this.  Unhappily,  every  shilling  of  my  own  is 
so  tied  up  for  the  moment  that " 

"Thank  you!"  Marion  waved  away  the 
bare  suggestion  of  that  kind  of  help.  The  mere 
thought  of  it  came  as  a  shock  that  pulled  her 
together.  She  bit  her  lip  and  stifled  her  tears. 
Ferrers  saw  he  had  made  a  slight  mistake  and 
went  on  quickly. 

"Now,  let's  have  a  Council  of  War.  Nothing 
like  getting  things  in  black  and  white — never 
look  so  bad  then — where's  a  bit  of  paper? — yes — 
now  there's  Lady  Goldbury  first " 

"I  can't  owe  that  for  an  hour!" 

"Two — thirty.     Yes.    Other  people?" 

"Here?" 

"Yes." 

"Twe — twelve  hundred." 


THE   SINS   OF    SOCIETY  49 

"Twelve  hundred  pounds!  phew! — then  of 
course  there  are  servants,  tradesmen  and  things." 

"Yes." 

11  All  rather  behind?" 

"Yes." 

"Rent — house  in  town — cottage  at  Windsor — 
insurances — interest  on  loans,  and — tist!" 

Lady  Goldbury  was  coming  back  with  Gwen. 
Ferrers'  voice  sank,  and  Marion  answered  in 
whispers,  while  the  long  column  of  fatal  figures 
grew. 

In  the  Tea  Room  Lady  Goldbury  had  been 
speaking  her  mind  at  the  top  of  her  voice. 
Incidentally  Mrs.  Murgatroyd  had  listened  to  a 
number  of  unpleasant  truths. 

"Whatever  she's  won  I  don't  think  she'll  talk 
much  about  it,  my  dear,"  she  said  to  Gwen,  as 
they  entered  the  Hall.  "Now  cheer  up  and 
think  of  something  else.  Are  you  going  to  the 
Bosworths'  Fancy  Ball?" 

"Yes,  I  think  so." 

"What  as?" 

"Oh,  something  simple  and  silly,  I  suppose. 
— Rosebuds  or  cornflowers — you  know — 'suitable 


50         ./THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY 

for  a  young  lady  in  her  first  season.'  I 
wish  I  was  of  age — then  I  could  choose  my  own 
frocks." 

"You'd  look  sweet  in  anything,  dear — if  it  was 
only  a  tablecloth  and  clogs.  What's  Marion's 
dress?" 

"Boadicea.  But  she  talks  of  not  going  at  the 
last  minute." 

"Bless  me!    Why?" 

"Queens  want  jewels  to  match.  And  Marion 
can't — I  mean  er — doesn't  like  wearing  paste." 

"Neither  do  I.  Can't  bear  it — won't  wear 
it.  But  I've  got  a  genuine  tiara  I  daren't  put  on." 

"Really?'' 

"Presented  when  my  husband  was  Lord  Mayor 
— only  fit  for  a  Crowned  Head.  Brilliants  inset 
with  blue  diamonds  and  emeralds.  I  had  it 
out  from  the  Bank  to-day — but  I  can't  face  it. 
I'll  lend  it  her  if  she  likes,  before  I  send  it  back 
again." 

"Now  that  is  sweet  of  you!  Marion,  you 
hear  that?  Lady  Goldbury  says  you  can  have 
her  wonderful  tiara  for  the  Bosworths'  ball. 
Now  you  must  come !" 


THE  SINS  OF   SOCIETY]  [51 

Marion  smiled.  Even  in  the  midst  of  her 
troubles  the  idea  of  frocks  and  jewels  appealed 
to  her.  "It's  awfully  good  of  you,"  she  said, 
"but  I  don't  like — especially  if  it's  real " 

"Oh,  it's  real  enough!"  said  Lady  Gold- 
bury,  "I'll  bring  it  around  and  show  it  you  this 
evening.  It's  a  blazer!"  And  she  went  on  chat- 
ting aimlessly  but  with  an  uneasy  eye  on  Ferrers. 
He  had  finished  his  calculations  and  spoke 
in  a  low  voice  that  only  Marion  could  hear. 
"Y — yes.  It  is  a  big  figure — seven  thousand." 

"I  know.  I've  added  and  added  it  up  over 
and  over  again  till  my  eyes  ache  and  my  head 
swims " 

"Is  there  no  relation — friend  of  the  Family 
— from  whom,  for  the  moment,  you  might 
borrow " 

"I've  done  that  till  I  can  borrow — and  beg — 
no  more!" 

"And — er — forgive  the  suggestion — it's  done 
every  day — haven't  you  any  trinkets — jewels — 
you  wouldn't  mind ?" 

"I've  done  it!  On  everything  worth  a 
sou! " 


52  THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY 

"Pity  that  tiara  of  Lady  Goldbury's  she's  go- 
ing to  lend  you  isn't  your  own." 

"My  own?" 

"Old  Morris  would  lend  the  money  on  that 
like  a  shot." 

Marion  winced.  A  flush  of  angry  humiliation 
came  to  her  pale  cheek.  Morris,  as  a  matter 
of  fact,  was  a  pawnbroker.  Ostensibly,  he  was 
a  jeweller  in  a  large  way  of  business  and  in- 
cidentally he  was  a  Money-lender.  Though  his 
name  was  rarely  mentioned,  Society  knew  Morris. 
And  Morris  knew  a  great  deal  about  Society — 
a  great  deal  that  is  not  written  down  in  Books 
and  never  appears  in  the  papers.  Visits  to 
Morris  were  not  things  of  which  anyone 
boasted. 

Ferrers  saw  Marion's  color  change.  "Thought 
of  anything?"  he  said. 

"No — only — his  name " 

"Morris,  eh?    Been  there  before?" 

"Yes." 

"All  the  better." 

"Better?    What  for?" 

"Business."     He  paused   for   a   moment — an 


THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY  53 

ugly  gleam  came  into  his  eyes.  He  looked  across 
at  Gwen.  "Nothing  like  establishing  credit.  .  .  . 
For  how  long  is  Lady  Goldbury  going  to  lend 
you  that  tiara?"  he  asked. 

'Till  after  the  ball." 

"On  Thursday.  Why  not  'phone  Morris  to 
come  and  see  you  to-night?" 

"What's  the  use?" 

"He's  a  good-natured  old  chap ;  he  might  lend 
you  a  bit  on  a  temporary  security" 

"But  I  have  none." 

"If  he  lent  you  a  thousand — and  you  had  it 
down  on  Dragon  for  the  Grand  Prix,  you'd  win 
a  fortune!" 

"But  I  say  I've  not  got  anything!" 

Ferrers  smiled.  "  'Phone  for  Morris,"  he 
said,  "take  my  advice.  Don't  be  frightened  and 
cheer  up.  Look  here,"  he  added,  changing  the 
subject  quickly  and  taking  a  small  packet  from 
his  pocket,  "I  had  to  go  to  the  docks  to-day  and 
was  offered  this  by  a  Lascar  sailor." 

"Blue  scarab — Egyptian.  What  is  the  inscrip- 
tion?" 

"Don't  know,  but  it's  an  infallible  charm,  my 


54  THE  SINS   OF   SOCIETY 

sailor  said,  to  the  Bold  Gambler,  and  will  bring 
to  anyone  in  sore  extremity — one  wish.  I  want 
you  to  accept  it." 

"Indeed  I  will — may  it  bring  me " 

"Don't  wish  too  soon.  One  has  to  be  awfully 
definite  you  know,  in  dealing  with  magic  and 
spells.  Wait  till  I  come  around  and  see  you  this 
evening.  Perhaps  I  may  have  thought  of  some- 
thing that  may  surprise  you."  He  pressed  the 
Blue  Scarab  into  her  hand  and  went  quickly  out 
of  the  Club.  He  heard  the  voice  of  Dorian  as 
he  went,  and  he  set  his  teeth.  He  had  made  up 
his  mind  to  a  bold  and  reckless  move  that  would 
either  ruin  his  chances  for  ever,  or  place  his  rival 
hopeless  and  helpless  under  his  heel.  But  the 
prize  that  he  played  for  was  Gwen,  and  he  meant 
to  win  if  he  could  find  a  trump  card  of  any  sort 
in  his  hand — or  up  his  sleeve. 

Dorian  neither  saw  nor  thought  of  him  as  he 
came  from  the  Card  room  looking  just  a  little 
puzzled  and  annoyed.  He  hesitated  as  he  spoke 
to  Marion  and  stumbled  over  his  words. 

"I — er — I'm  dooced  sorry,"  he  said,  "but — er — 
everyone  seems  goin' — or — er — or  says  they  are — " 


THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY  55 

He  caught  the  pained  look  on  the  face  of 
Marion,  and  a  half  suspicion  of  the  truth  dawned 
on  him.  She  was  being  given  the  cold  shoulder 
— openly  and  publicly.  He  had  seen  the  same 
sort  of  thing  done  once  before.  He  knew  how 
it  must  hurt  a  proud  woman — besides,  she  was 
Gwen's  sister  and  he  determined  she  should  play 
that  day,  whatever  happened  afterwards,  if  only 
for  the  sake  of  appearances. 

His  determination  only  made  bad  worse.  For 
as  several  people  came  streaming  down  the  stairs, 
he  heard  Jack  Craven  grumbling  that  his  set 
was  broken  up  and  he  had  a  spare  half  hour  on 
his  hands. 

"Then  come  and  join  us,  Jack,"  he  said,  "we 
want  a  fourth." 

He  counted  on  Gwen  playing  as  a  last  ex- 
tremity. 

"Capital,"  said  Craven,  as  he  turned,  putting 
up  his  eye  glass,  "who  with — "  He  caught  sight 
of  Marion  and  paused.  He  was  a  simpering  yel- 
low haired  little  creature,  who  played  the  piano, 
painted  in  water  colors,  paid  cabmen  their  legal 


56  THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY 

fares  and  argued  over  his  luncheon  bill.  He 
rarely  rose  from  the  card  table  a  loser. 

"L — Lady  Marion?"  he  stammered  with  a 
slushy  watery  smile,  "Delighted — of  course — most 
charmed.  Dear  me!"  He  looked  up  with  af- 
fected surprise  at  the  clock.  "I — why — I'd  no 
idea  it  was  so  late.  Good  gracious — awfully 
sorry — I — I've  an  awfully  important  appointment 
with  er — with — I  must  keep.  If  you  will  excuse 
— dear  Lady  Marion — to-morrow  with  er — pleas- 
ure. I  shall  be  delighted — Good  bye !" 

He  hurried  away. 

Dorian  swore  under  his  breath. 

Lady  Goldbury  said  quietly,  "You  see?" 

"Yes— Idol" 

The  big,  black  eyes  blazed.  After  all  Marion 
was  not  an  Ashley  for  nothing.  A  hint  from  the 
Duchess  was  one  thing.  A  snub  'from  a  thing 
like  Craven  was  quite  another. 

"Dorian,"  she  said,  "will  you  take  Gwen 
home?"  As  the  door  closed  on  them  her  full 
rage  burst  almost  in  hysteria. 

"Now,"  she  said  to  Lady  Goldbury,  "New  I 
will  see  something  for  myself!" 


THE   SINS   OF    SOCIETY  57 

"My  dear " 

"Yes!  Am  I  the  only  one?  The  only  Black 
Sheep  in  this  whited  fold?  You  know — I  know, 
and  I'll  go  straight  to  the  Card  Room  this 
minute  and  tell  them  all  out  loud  what  I  know — 
then  we'll  see!" 

"My  dear,  I  entreat " 

But  Marion  swung  away  flaming  .  .  .  and 
met  Mr.  Thesiger,  the  Club  Secretary,  face  to 
face.  He  spoke  in  a  low,  deferential  voice. 

"Lady  Marion,"  he  said,  "I  beg  pardon — could 
you — er — give  me  one  minute?" 

"Yes,  Mr.  Thesiger." 

He  was  the  quintessence  of  tact  and  good 
breeding.  His  manner  gave  no  indication  of 
his  intention  as  he  went  on  quietly. 

"You  will  please  understand,  of  course,  I 
am  only  speaking  in  my  official  capacity  as 
Secretary." 

"Yes—?" 

Marion  clenched  her  hands.    "Official — ?" 

What  was  coming? 

"The  Committee  have  passed  a  Resolution  to 
the  effect  that  Members  owing  more  than  a  cer- 


5$  THE  SINS  OF  SOCIETY; 

tain  amount  for  card  debts  shall  be  notified  that 
until — er — until  they  have  paid — " 

"I  know  it — they  shall  not  be  allowed  to 
play." 

"Exactly.  I  have  been  directed  to  remind 
you—" 

"Very  good." 

" — And — er — and  to  add  that  the  names  of 
Members  who  do  not  settle  after  being — er — so 
reminded  must  be  reported  to  the  Committee — 
er— for— " 

"Expulsion?' 

Thesiger  bowed. 

"I— I  regret—"  he  said. 

"When — when  does  the  Committee  meet 
again?"  Marion  asked. 

"To-morrow — at  three." 

There  was  a  moment'^  painful  silence. 
Marion's  heart  was  in  her  throat  and  her  head 
swam.  •' 

"I  will  see  to  it,"  at  length,  she  said  hoarsely. 
"By  to-morrow — " 

And  Thesiger,  bowing,  went  noiselessly  up  the 
stairs. 


THE  SINS  OF   SOCIETY?  59 


By  to-morrow . 

She  must  find  the  money  by  to-morrow,  or 
pass  out  of  Society,  out  of  her  world  and  all 
that  it  meant  to  her,  with  a  tainted  name.  It 
was  more  than  ruin.  It  was  utter  disgrace! 
Mean  and  sordid  disgrace,  too.  The  sort  of 
disgrace  she  never  could  hope  to  forget  or  live 
down.  It  was  indeed  a  bitter  punishment  for 
her  head-long  folly — it  was  black  humiliation. 
Was  there  no  escape !  Her  long,  white  fingers 
writhed  and  twisted  and  her  lip  trembled.  .  .  . 

"Marion,"  said  Lady  Goldbury  quietly,  "hadn't 
you  better  come  home?  My  motor  is  waiting — 
let  me  give  you  a  lift?" 

"Thanks — very  much — I — I'll  be  there  directly. 
I — er — I  want  to  telephone  for  a  minute,  first." 

Lady  Goldbury  went  out. 

Marion  crossed  slowly  to  the  telephone  and 
paused. 

In  the  hour  of  her  degradation  she  saw  only 
one  ray  of  hope.  "To-night — I  may  have 
thought  of  something  that  may  surprise  you," 
Ferrers  had  said.  "Send  for  Morris." 

Morris  the  Money  Lender. 


6o 

Morris  who  lent  money  on ? 

What  .  .  .   ? 

She  did  not  know,  she  could  not  think — 
Ferrers  must  tell  her.  Wherever  the  path  led 
she  must  take  it!  It  was  the  only  way!  Help- 
less and  blindfold  she  must  follow  it! 

Blindfold  indeed  .  .  .  Facilis  descensus!  .  .  . 

She  snatched  the  receiver  from  the  hook  and 
called — quickly — decisively  .  .  . 

"Yes.  Certainly.  Mr.  Morris  would  wait 
upon  her  Ladyship  at  eight  that  evening  .  .  .  ' 

It  was  finished.  For  good  or  evil  she  had 
taken  the  leap  in  the  dark. 

Noel  Ferrers  had  won  his  First  Trick. 


CHAPTER  II 

SECURITY  ? 

TWO  hours  .  .  . 
The  clock  struck  six  as  Marion  Beaumont 
entered    her    boudoir  .  .  she    had    two    hours 
before  her  of   agonized  suspense.      Two   hours 
of  vain  regret — two  hours  of  panic  stricken  fear. 

She  could  not  face  them ! 

There  was  only  one  escape — one  deadly  door 
that  opened  on  brief  oblivion.  It  was  unhappily 
not  the  first  time  that  she  had  entered. 

She  flung  herself  into  a  loose  wrap,  and  told 
her  maid  to  call  her  in  time  to  dress.  Directly 
she  was  alone  she  took  from  a  locked  drawer  a 
small  case  containing  a  tiny  bottle  and  a  needle 
pointed  syringe. 

Morphia  .  .  .  !  The  curse  of  the  idle,  the 
foolish,  the  cowardly  and  the  uncontrolled. 
Another  woman  had  taught  her  the  fatal  habit, 


62  THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY 

with  all  the  specious  logic  that  goes  with  it. 
"Smart"  women  who  turn  night  into  day  must 
find  some  means  of  sleeping  soundly  while  sane 
people  are  awake.  The  complexion  demands  it. 
No  harm  is  done  if  you  don't  overdo  it.  Besides, 
if  you  are  worried,  it  is  such  a  relief  to  .... 

She  came  back  out  of  the  deep  dreamless  gulf 
with  a  swimming  head  to  hear  the  maid  announc- 
ing that  some  one  had  arrived. 

"Mr.  Mor — er — who  do  you  say?" 

"A  gentleman  to  dine,  my  lady — Mr.  Hogg 
—Hogg?" 

O  yes.  Of  course.  Noel  Ferrers  had  asked 
leave  to  bring  a  friend. 

"With  Mr.  Ferrers?" 

"No,  my  lady — alone." 

"Tell  Lady  Gwen — say  I  will  be  down 
directly." 

She  heard  the  grinding  whirr  of  a  stopping 
taxi  in  the  street — the  front  door  banged — 
another  guest  had  arrived,  and  she  began  to 
dress  hurriedly. 

Meantime  Mr.  James  Hogg  walked  about  the 


THE    SINS    OF    SOCIETY          63 

Library  into  which  he  had  been  shown  and  felt 
miserably  uncomfortable — as  a  first  comer 
invariably  does. 

Apart  from  this  he  was  utterly  out  of  his 
Element. 

His  Father,  and  Mother,  people  of  humble 
origin,  had  emigrated  from  the  North  of  England 
to  Australia,  where  he  was  born,  and  where  he 
found  himself  at  the  age  of  thirty  an  orphan  and 
a  Bank  Clerk  with  no  particular  advantages  save 
a  keen  head  for  figures  and  excellent  health.  At 
an  early  age  he  thoroughly  acquired  the  true  Aus- 
tralian spirit  of  Sport — that  is  to  say,  he  was 
always  ready  at  a  moment's  notice  to  bet  about 
the  result  of  anything,  from  a  dog  fight  to  an 
Earthquake.  In  this  direction  his  native  York- 
shire shrewdness  and  his  arithmetical  aptitude 
gave  him  certain  advantages.  His  successful 
wagering  with  his  fellow  clerks  at  last  became  so 
proverbial  that  his  field  of  enterprise  was  limited, 
and  he  sighed  for  fresh  worlds  to  conquer.  At 
last,  carefully  choosing  his  occasion,  he  boldly 
abandoned  the  bank  and  emerged  on  the  race 
course  as  a  full  fledged  Bookmaker.  He  pros- 


64  THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY 

pered,  and  for  quite  ten  years  was  a  popular  and 
respected  figure  in  the  Ring. 

During  this  period  he  received  a  letter  from 
home.  Family  tradition  recorded  that  his  Father 
had  left  an  elder  brother  working  in  a  Lancashire 
Cotton  Mill.  From  this,  his  only  living  relation, 
the  missive  came.  It  asked  briefly  for  pecuniary 
assistance.  As  an  evidence  of  bona  fides  the 
writer  mentioned  a  mark  on  the  shoulder  of 
Hogg's  Father  caused  by  the  accidental  explo- 
sion of  an  old  shot  gun  in  his  youth.  No  one 
but  a  member  of  the  Hogg  family  was  likely  to 
know  anything  of  this  circumstance,  so  James 
accepted  the  letter  as  genuine  and  sent  his  Uncle 
a  kindly  and  affectionate  reply,  together  with  a 
sum  of  twenty  pounds,  a  request  for  further  in- 
formation and  a  promise  of  further  help  if  it  was 
needed. 

As  a  matter  of  fact  the  elder  Hogg  required 
no  help  at  all.  He  had  risen  on  top  of  the 
Cotton  Wave,  owned  factories  in  several  towns 
and  was  reported  a  millionaire.  In  his  old  age 
— for  he  was  a  very  old  man — a  Secretary 
whom  he  had  befriended  and  greatly  trusted, 


THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY  65 

tried  to  rob  him.  The  attempt  failed  miserably, 
but  it  soured  the  remaining  years  of  the  old 
man's  life.  Ever  cautious  and  canny,  his  right 
hand  now  regarded  his  left  with  suspicion,  if  not 
dislike.  He  looked  at  his  millions  and  felt  that 
the  long  endeavor  of  his  strenuous  life  had  been 
empty,  futile  and  vain.  Then  he  thought  of  the 
brother,  and  the  brother's  son  whom  he  had  so 
long  forgotten.  He  made  cautious  inquiries. 
Shook  his  head  at  the  discovery  of  Jim's  career. 
But  at  last  wrote  a  test  letter,  and  found  in  the 
reply  a  lesson  and  a  reproof.  The  younger  Hogg 
had  never  begged  of  him — had  made  his  own  life 
in  his  own  way — yet  his  heart  responded  at  once, 
warmly  and  generously  to  an  appeal  from  one 
of  his  own  kin. 

The  old  man  used  to  keep  the  letter  in  his 
pocket  and  read  it  over  and  over  again,  though 
he  never  answered  it.  When  he  died  it  was 
found  by  his  bedside —  .  .  .  and  under  it  his 
last  Will  and  Testament  leaving  without  con- 
ditions, or  reserve,  the  whole  of  his  large 
fortune  and  estate  to  the  nephew  he  had  never 
seen. 


66  THE   SINS   OF  SOCIETY) 

To  take  out  Probate  and  take  up  his  in- 
heritance James  Hogg  came  home — and  after 
a  brief  stay  he  wanted  to  go  back  again. 
Nothing  he  had  ever  experienced  was  more 
depressing  than  solitary  life  in  a  big  Hotel — 
more  especially  in  a  strange  city.  Interviews  with 
Lawyers  and  Mill  Managers  did  not  enliven 
the  monotony.  By  comparison  with  the  eternal 
sunshine  of  the  South,  the  atmosphere  of  London 
was  horrible — that  of  the  Black  Country  was 
worse. 

But  here  in  England  was  his  property — here 
was  his  wealth.  How  was  he  to  realize  it — 
translate  it  into  a  lump  sum — and  transfer  it  to 
Australia?  That  was  the  problem.  The  more 
he  saw  of  Mills  and  Mines  the  more  he  hated 
them.  When  he  sat  in  a  lordly  office  and  im- 
portant men  addressed  him  in  reverential  whispers 
he  longed  to  spring  on  to  the  table  and  shout, 
"Sixty  to  Forty  on  the  Field!"  He  wanted  to 
stand  under  the  aching  blue  of  a  fleckless  sky 
hearing  the  thunder  of  hoofs  and  the  wild  roar 
of  the  multitude !  In  England  the  sky  was  gray, 
and  he  was  always  and  utterly  alone — alone  with 


THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY,  67 

great  riches.  Yet  his  quick  observation  told  him 
that  he  was  quite  a  common  person,  and  that  his 
clothes  were  badly  cut. 

In  a  morbid,  dejected,  and  deprecatory  frame 
of  mind  he  cut  short  his  interviews  in  the  City 
one  morning  and  came  away  early.  In  Queen 
.Victoria  Street  he  suddenly  gave  an  exclamation 
of  delighted  surprise.  He  saw  a  face  he  had 
known — and  what  was  better  had  known  on  the 
race  course — in  Australia.  Noel  Ferrers — 
groomed,  curled,  and  polished — a  trifle  over 
polished,  but  looking  to  the  miserable  Hogg  a 
concentrated  extract  of  all  the  gentilities — had 
nodded  to  him  as  he  passed. 

Promptly  Hogg  turned  and  followed  him — 
a  thing  he  would  not  have  done  on  the  other 
side  of  the  world.  For,  in  the  Colonies  Noel 
Ferrers  had  acquired  a  rather  variegated  repu- 
tation. He  had  never  exactly  been  caught — but 
he  was  generally  regarded  as  a  sharp  in  embryo. 
This  did  not  much  concern  Hogg,  for,  like  many 
racing  men,  though  absolutely  honest  himself  few 
sharps  could  teach  him  anything.  You  must 


68  THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY 

understand  "the  Great  Game"  thoroughly  if  you 
mean  to  play  it — from  either  side. 

Still,  he  would  not  have  sought  after  the 
company  of  Ferrers  in  Australia.  Here  he  ran 
after  it. 

They  dined  together  the  same  night.  Directly 
Ferrers  understood  the  situation — directly  he 
knew  how  the  land  lay — he  showed  how  useful 
he  could  be. 

Knowing  his  man  he  told  him  nothing  but  hard 
clean  truth.  He  left  it  to  soak  into  his  mind  and 
patiently  waited  till  Hogg  had  verified  his  state- 
ments and  asked  for  more. 

In  this  manner  a  kind  of  guarded  intimacy 
arose  between  them,  and  Ferrers  suggested  the 
possibility  of  turning  the  Hogg  Estate — the  Mills 
and  the  Mines  and  the  rest  of  it — into  a  great 
Industrial  (limited)  Company. 

"Don't  take  my  advice,"  he  added.  "Inquire 
for  yourself.  Your  Uncle  banked — as  you  do 
still — with  Goldbury's.  Rummy  old  Firm — 
older  than  Coutts — and  stronger  than  the  Bank 
of  England.  Oddly  enough  there's  a  woman  at 
the  top  of  it — the  widow — Lady  Goldbury — 


THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY  69 

wonderful  business  head  when  she  likes  to  use  it 
— ask  her  opinion — as  a  big  client  you've  a  right 
to  do  so." 

Hogg  did. 

And  met  his  destiny. 

Lady  Goldbury  had  a  perfect  little  figure  and 
it  was  always  perfectly  dressed.  James  gazed  at 
it.  He  saw  also  her  square,  clean  cut  face,  her 
resolute  mouth,  and  her  keen  twinkling,  humorous 
eyes.  For  one  incidental  instant  he  caught  a 
flying  glimpse  of  a  particularly  neat  foot  and 
ankle. 

From  the  moment  of  their  first  meeting  he 
fell  and  grovelled  a  helpless  victim  before  his 
Idol.  It  was  not  love  at  first  sight — it  was  hope- 
less blithering  adoration. 

During  the  initial  stages  of  the  complaint  Lady 
Goldbury  was  pleased  after  a  fashion,  rather 
flattered  and  very  much  amused. 

Later  on  she  was  only  amused.  Then  the 
thing  ceased  to  be  funny  and  she  became  irritated. 

Hogg  became  a  bore. 

He  could  not  write  a  letter  without  asking 
for  an  interview  with  Lady  Goldbury  first. 


70  THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY; 

Wherever  he  thought  it  likely  that  she  would 
go  in  public — there  he  went.  He  prowled  about 
the  Carlton,  dined  at  the  Ritz,  supped  at  the 
Savoy — took  stalls  for  six  theatres  on  the  same 
evening  and  visited  them  all  in  the  vain  hope  of 
catching  her  at  one.  He  wrote  poetry — and  sent 
it  to  her  inside  his  business  communications.  He 
called  at  her  house  with  "floral  tributes"  at  un- 
earthly hours.  When  she  went  to  bed  she  could 
see  him  looking  up  at  her  window  from  beneath 
the  lamp  opposite — once  she  saw  him  there 
interrogated  by  the  Police  as  a  suspicious 
character ! 

When  she  declined  to  interview  him  personally 
and  wrote  only  through  her  secretary  it  merely 
made  matters  worse. 

Hogg  was  in  love.  Really  and  genuinely  in 
love.  And  he  had  never  been  in  love  before. 

In  the  company  of  Noel  Ferrers  he  found 
his  solitary  consolation.  Ferrers  stood  any 
amount  of  amatory  confidence  on  the  off  chance 
of  making  money  out  of  the  "Hogg  Industrials 
(limited)."  It  was  a  thoroughly  sound  promo- 
tion, which  would  enhance  his  reputation,  and 


THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY  71 

out  of  which  he  could  dispense  valuable  pickings 
to  useful  friends — not  forgetting  Lady  Marion. 
So  he  honored  Hogg,  listened  sympathetically, 
and  occasionally  contrived  accidental  meetings 
with  the  thrice  adored  Lady  Goldbury.  Such 
encounters,  however,  became  more  difficult  of 
attainment  as  Lady  Goldbury  became  more  irri- 
tated and  more  shy.  For  this  reason  Ferrers 
had  merely  spoken  of  Hogg  to  Marion  as  "a 
chap"  he  wished  to  introduce.  He  did  not  men- 
tion his  name. 

He  smiled  to  himself  confidently  at  the  pleas- 
ant little  surprise  he  had  in  store  when  he  found 
Hogg  in  radiant  evening  dress,  fidgeting  ner- 
vously about  Lady  Marion's  Library. 

"Sorry  I  missed  you,"  he  said,  for  they  had 
arranged  to  come  along  together.  "But  I  had 
to  do  a  little  commission  for  Lady  M." 

"To  win  and  a  place?"  Hogg  answered. 

"No.  Nothing  in  that  line."  Ferrers  smiled, 
as  he  put  a  light  parcel  wrapped  in  brown  paper 
on  the  desk,  "Just — er — something  she  wanted 
- — that's  all.  Now  let's  have  a  look  at  you?" 

"All  right?"    Hogg  asked  pulling  at  his  lapels. 


72  THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY 

"Splendid!  Diamond  studs — diamond  sleeve 
links!  They'd  inspire  enormous  confidence  on  a 
Race  Course — but  in  a  drawing  room — " 

"What's  the  matter — don't  they  suit  me?" 

"They  would — admirably — in  your  old  getup 
with  your  bag  and  your  'briefs'  " 

"  'Ang  it,  I  say  they're  real — they  ain't  flash." 

"Of  course  not — and  they  might  be  sported 
by  a  successful  Bookmaker.  But  you  don't  want 
people  to  know  you've  been  in  that  line — espe- 
cially Lady  Goldbury." 

"No— Good  Heavens—!" 

"Then  remember  in  good  Society  a  man  may 
give  diamonds  but  he  mustn't  wear  them." 

"Thanks—" 

"I  hear  dinner  has  been  put  off  half  an  hour." 

"Yes — so  the  waiter — I  mean  the  footman 
feller  told  me." 

"Well,  you  won't  find  waiting  tedious.  There's 
just  a  little  stroke  of  luck  in  store  for  you.  Who 
else  do  you  think  is  dining?" 

"Can't  guess." 

"Lady  Goldbury !  There !  When  I  heard  she 
was  coming  I  asked  leave  to  bring  you — talk 


THE    SINS   OF    SOCIETY  73 

Industrials  to  Lady  Marion,  and  let  her  in  on 
bed  rock  for  some  of  the  Preferences — she 
knows  a  heap  of  smart  people  and  will  be  very 
useful  when  it  comes  to  selecting  the  Board." 

"My  dear  chap — I  can't  thank  you  enough — 
I'll  do  anything — anything — " 

He  stopped — choking  with  gratitude  and 
delighted  anticipation. 

Lady  Goldbury  .  .  . 

He  was  going  to  see  her,  speak  with  her, — 
at  least,  speak  to  her — sit  near  her,  gaze  at  her, 
dine  with  her — enjoy  the  mixed  ecstasy  and 
anguish  of  her  society  for  the  next  two  hours. 
Two  whole  long  hours — he,  to  whom  she  had 
refused  a  personal  word  for  over  three  weeks. 
Would  it  be  another  three,  possibly  six  before 
he  would  again  .  .  .  ? 

A  Motor  stopped  outside.  The  door  bell 
clanged.  Was  it — ? 

The  simple  soul  of  honest  James  Hogg  was 
suddenly  overwhelmed  by  a  wave  of  desperate 
determination.  He  laid  a  trembling  hand  on  the 
arm  of  Ferrers.  "Could — couldn't  you  leave  us 
a — alone — for  a  few  minutes?"  he  said. 


74  THE  SINS  OF   SOCIETY 

"Certainly,"  Ferrers  answered.  "If  you  wisK 
it—" 

And  he  passed  out  of  a  further  door  into  the 
Drawing  Room  as  Lady  Goldbury  entered  from 
the  Hall  carrying  a  blue  velvet  large  jewel  case. 

What  James  Hogg  said  in  the  course  of  the 
next  ten  minutes  neither  he  nor  she  ever  exactly 
remembered.  Seizing  his  opportunity  and  dread- 
ing momentary  interruption  he  poured  out  his 
passion  in  a  stuttering  spluttering  flood  of  inter- 
jection. He  almost  literally  hurled  at  her  feet 
his  undying  devotion  and  a  million's  worth  of 
Cotton  Mills.  She  was  annoyed,  irritated,  resent- 
ful— then  she  began  to  laugh — and  then  being 
mortal  the  obvious  depth  of  his  sincerity  flattered 
and  touched  her  vanity.  Little  by  little  she 
relented.  She  pooh-poohed — at  any  rate  for  the 
present,  any  consideration  of  marriage,  but  she 
withdrew  her  stern  decree  of  banishment.  She 
gave  him  permission  to  call — not  too  often;  and 
promised  that  perhaps  she  would  dine  with  him 
at  the  Carlton  if  he  gave  up  writing  poetry. 

Incidentally,  and  as  a  deterrent,  she  threw  out 
a  hint  that  if  ever  she  married  again  it  would 


75 

be  to  an  athlete,  an  adept  at  manly  games  and 
exercises,  an  all-round  sportsman.  The  chance 
phrase  stereotyped  itself  in  the  mind  of  Hogg, 
and,  such  are  the  strange  accidents  of  life,  the 
result  had  a  vital  influence  on  the  lives  of  every 
single  person  who  sat  round  Marion  Beaumont's 
dinner  table  that  evening. 

For  Dorian  March  had  joined  them,  and  they 
were  all  assembled  in  the  Drawing  Room  when 
Ferrers  quietly  slipped  back  into  the  Library  and 
found  Marion  seated  at  the  desk,  gazing  aim- 
lessly at  the  gorgeous  diamond  tiara  that  Lady 
Goldbury  had  brought  according  to  her  promise 
to  complete  the  Boadicea  costume  for  the  Fancy 
Ball. 

Ferrers  looked  at  it  over  her  shoulder. 
"Splendid!"  he  said,  "What  brilliants!  Jolly 
singular  too — inset  with  emeralds  and  blue 
diamonds.  Shouldn't  think  there  is  another  like 
it  in  London.  She  was  quite  right  though — it's 
only  fit  for  a  Princess  ...  or  a  pawnbroker." 

Marion  colored  and  started  at  the  word. 

"Pawn — "  she  said. 


76  THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY 

"Yes,"  answered  Ferrers  quietly.  "Isn't 
Morris  coming?" 

"What's  that  to  do  with — " 

"When?"  Ferrers  interrupted. 

"At — at  eight — but — " 

Ferrers  glanced  at  the  clock.  "Just  time,"  he 
said. 

"For — for  what?"  Marion  asked  vaguely. 
The  morphia  had  not  quite  faded  from  her  brain. 

"To  arrange  the  security  on  which  Morris 
will  lend  you  Seven  thousand  pounds." 

She  stared  at  him  blankly.    Her  lips  were  dry. 

"Who  else  will  lend  it?"  he  said.  "You  are 
in  a  deuce  of  a  corner.  Now  I'll  tell  you  a  secret. 
My  horse  the  Dragon,  was  tried  this  morning. 
The  Grand  Prix  is  a  certainty  for  him.  Yet  the 
ring  will  lay  you  thirty  to  one.  If  you  backed 
him  for  a  thousand — a  thousand  at  thirty  to  one 
— and  won  thirty  thousand  pounds  you  could  pay 
every  debt  you  owe  twice  over!" 

"A  thousand,"  Marion  whispered  hoarsely, 
"A  thousand—" 

"Exactly.     But  you'd  want  the  ready  to  do  it. 


77 

Too  many  people  know — I  mean — bookmakers 
aren't  a  trustful  race." 

"I  haven't—" 

"A  spare  shilling.  I  know.  But — "  He  hes- 
itated for  just  one  second.  There  was  still  time 
to  avoid  speaking  the  final  words  that  might  get 
him  kicked  out  of  the  house  on  the  spot — or  might 
make  him  its  Master  forever  .  .  . 

...  A  piano  tinkled.  He  heard  the  tiny  but 
sweet  and  faultless  voice  of  Gwen  singing  snatches 
from  a  favorite  musical  play — a  queer  contrast 
— like  a  banjo  in  Paradise.  He  heard  Dorian 
laugh — Dorian  who  .  .  . 

Ferrers  took  the  plunge.  "Morris  would  lend 
you  plenty  on  that"  he  said,  pointing  to  the  Tiara, 
and  the  next  instant  Marion  sprang  blazing  to 
her  feet. 

But  Ferrers  raised  a  reassuring  hand  and 
smiled. 

"I  am  not  for  an  instant  suggesting  that  you 
should  really  pawn  it,"  he  said,  "you  need  only 
.  .  .  show  it." 

"To— to  Morris?" 

"Why  not?" 


78  THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY, 

"As  my  own?" 

Boadicea  her  very  self  could  not  have  looked 
more  scornfully  imposing  in  a  moment  of  mag- 
nificent indignation.  Ferrers'  heart  beat  hard. 
Had  he  made  a  hideous  blunder?  Had  he  hope- 
lessly miscalculated  the  odds  against  his  coup? 
In  three  seconds  he  would  know — for  he  made 
no  outward  sign,  but  just  shrugged  his  shoulders 
without  concern  and  said  quietly: 

"I  assure  you,  my  dear  Lady  Marion,  this  sort 
of  thing  is  done  much  more  often  than  you  sup- 
pose. Besides  there  is  nothing  in  it — it  is  thor- 
oughly understood — by  people  like  Morris.  It's 
a  form — a  ceremony — a  show  of  security  that 
for  the  moment  you  have  not  got — made  by — er 
• — people  like  yourself  whose  repayments  are  a 
certainty." 

"A  certainty!    Mine — a  certainty?" 

With  a  quick  emphatic  gesture  Ferrers  was  at 
her  side.  "I  tell  you,"  he  said  in  a  hoarse  feverish 
whisper,  "the  Dragon  is  a  certainty — an  absolute 
certainty — a  fortune  is.  as  good  as  in  your  pocket 
— if  you'd  only  the  money,  the  ready  money  to 
back  him  with!" 


THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY*  79 

Fearless,  Defiant,  Dominant,  he  looked  hard 
into  Marion's  face.  He  saw  the  slack  mouth 
tremble — he  heard  the  short  laboring  sob — he 
watched  the  big  luminous  eyes  fall,  then  wander 
in  furtive  questioning  back  to  his  own — and  he 
felt  that  those  eyes  were  inflamed  by  the  passion 
of  the  gambler,  not  by  the  wrath  of  a  queen. 
Promptly,  and  with  quick  decision,  he  gave  her 
his  instructions — commands,  not  advice. 

He  tore  open  the  parcel  he  had  brought  and 
placed  before  her  two  large  white  cardboard 
boxes. 

"You  see  they  are  exactly  alike,"  he  said,  "and 
they  contain  nothing  but  a  little  cotton  wool." 
He  took  up  the  Tiara  in  its  case  and  judged  the 
weight  on  his  hand.  Then  from  one  box  he 
took  the  wool,  went  across  to  the  unlit  fire,  and 
selecting  two  pieces  of  coal  carefully  wrapped 
the  wool  round  and  put  it  back  in  its  box  again. 
He  compared  the  weight  with  that  of  the  Tiara, 
replaced  the  lid,  and  taking  some  string  from  a 
ball  on  the  table,  carefully  tied  up  the  box. 
"Now,"  he  said,  "place  this  box  in  that  drawer 
so  that  when  you  are  sitting  at  the  desk  it  is 


8o  THE   SINS    OF   SOCIETY 

close  to  your  left  hand.  Then  show  Morris  the 
Tiara.  Make  some  excuse  for  keeping  the  case. 
Put  the  Tiara  in  the  second  box.  Tie  it  with 
string  exactly  as  I  tied  the  first.  Then — where 
is  your  seal — yes — you  see  I  put  it  here  on  the 
mantelshelf — almost  hidden  by  this  book — tell 
Morris  you  want  to  seal  the  string,  and  ask  him 
to  fetch  the  seal  for  you.  .  .  .  Directly  he  turns 
his  back  open  the  drawer  containing  the  first  box 
on  your  left  and  at  the  same  time  open  the  empty 
drawer  on  your  right  .  .  .  put  the  box  contain- 
ing the  Tiara  quietly  into  the  right  hand  drawer 
.  .  .  put  the  box  containing  the  coal  on  the  table 
in  front  of  you  .  .  .  close  both  the  drawers 
quietly  .  .  .  seal  the  box  on  the  table  carefully 
and  let  Morris  take  it  away  .  .  .  when  he  has 
gone  open  the  other  box,  destroy  it — put  the 
Tiara  back  into  its  case  and  return  it  to  Lady 
Goldbury  .  .  .  you  will  redeem  the  box  from 
Morris  directly  the  Dragon  wins,  and — " 

"I  can't,"  gasped  Marion,  horrified,  terrified, 
"I  can't!" 

"How  else  will  you  get  the  money?  Bah — 
you're  a  gambler — so  am  II  Nothing  venture, 


THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY  81 

nothing  win!  Besides — "  his  voice  sank  per- 
suasively, "It's  only  a  loan.  You  do  the  man  no 
harm.  And  he  understands  right  enough  .  .  . 
If  you  don't  do  it — well,  you  know  the  corner  you 
are  in.  Are  you  going  to  back  down,  going  to 
give  in,  going  to  cry  beaten  before  all  the  world? 
.  .  .  And  I  tell  you  the  Dragon's  a  certainty! 
Here's  your  chance — will  you  take  it,  or  leave  it? 
If  you  don't — " 

The  door  opened  and  Morris,  the  Pawnbroker, 
stood  before  them. 

Ferrers  knew  him  perfectly  well  but  he  made 
no  sign.  Morris  never  spoke  till  he  was  spoken 
to. 

"Someone  to  see  you  on  business,  eh?"  said 
Ferrers.  "I'll  join  the  others,  and,"  he  added  in 
a  lower  voice,  "you  may  be  sure  you  won't  be 
interrupted." 

She  drew  a  curtain  over  the  door  when  he 
had  gone,  and  tried  for  a  moment  vainly,  and 
vaguely,  to  think. 

"Where  else  will  you  get  the  money?  If  you 
don't"  .  .  .  Disgrace! 

Luckily   Morris   was   so   well   accustomed   to 


82  THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY 

confidential  interviews  with  embarrassed  Ladies 
of  Fashion  that  her  embarrassment  did  not  sur- 
prise him.  Calm,  discreet,  decorous,  a  handsome 
man  with  a  pointed,  well-kept,  white  beard,  he 
stood  patiently  waiting  for  whatever  revelation 
was  to  come. 

"I  hope  I  have  not  put  you  to  any  inconvenience 
in  asking  you  to  call — "  she  said  at  length. 

"Not  at  all,  my  lady.  It  is  a  pleasure  to  wait 
upon  a  client.  Especially  if  the  business  is 
urgent." 

"It  is — rather  urgent — unexpected.  And — I — 
er — I  want  a  large  amount." 

"How  much,  my  lady?" 

"Seven — seven  thousand  pounds." 

" — Thousand?     It  is  fairly  large." 

"I  suppose  I — I  couldn't  raise  it  on  my  Bill — 
or  note  of  hand?" 

"Not  without  security,  my  lady — I  may  say 
large  security.  But  if  your  ladyship  has  any  to 
suggest — " 

"There  are  some  jewels" — Marion  said.  Her 
lips  stuck.  She  could  say  no  more.  She  pointed 
nervously  to  Lady  Goldbury's  Tiara,  and  Morris 


THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY  83 

took  it  from  its  case,  then  he  quietly  placed  a 
jeweller's  powerful  magnifying  lens  in  his  eye 
and  examined  the  glittering  mass  of  gems  care- 
fully. 

"Superb,"  he  muttered  as  he  gazed.  "Quite 
perfect  brilliants  —  exceptionally  perfect  —  and 
a  unique  design  —  very  curious  —  alternate  emer- 
alds and  blue  diamonds  inset.  I  should  remember 
it  anywhere  —  " 

"Can  I  have  the  money,  Mr.  Morris?"  Marion 
said  quickly. 

"On  this,  my  lady." 

The  lens  slipped  through  his  fingers  and  fell 
on  the  floor.  As  he  stooped  to  find  it  he  did  not 
notice  the  reeling  figure  and  the  hoarse  voice  of 
the  tortured  woman. 

He  only  heard  the  answer. 


Experience  had  taught  him  that  such  interviews 
should  not  be  prolonged.  Without  a  word  he 
sat  down  at  the  desk  and  wrote  out  a  check. 

"Seven  thousand  pounds,"  he  said,  and  defer- 
entially extended  his  hand  towards  the  Tiara. 

Marion  coughed.    She  wanted  every  ounce  of 


84  THE    SINS   OF   SOCIETY 

courage  for  the  final  ordeal.  Every  nerve  was 
taut  and  tense. 

"I — er — I  thought,  Mr.  Morris — if — er — if 
it  doesn't  matter — I  er — I  don't  want  my  maid 
to  notice  the  absence  of  the  case — you — you 
understand? — I — I  thought  perhaps  we  might 
put  the  Tiara  into — into  this  box,  and — and  I  can 
seal  it,  you  know,  instead  of  locking  it." 

"With  pleasure,  my  lady.  May  I  assist — " 
He  took  the  Tiara  from  its  case  himself,  and 
placed  it  carefully  on  the  cotton  wool  in  the  box. 

Then  he  put  on  the  lid. 

Marion  took  the  string  and  tied  it  securely 
round  the  box  exactly  as  Ferrers  had  done — 
exactly  as  he  had  tied  the  box  that  lay  in  the 
drawer,  ready,  to  her  left  hand. 

Morris  lit  a  wax  taper. 

Now  .  .  .  she  looked  about  the  table  for  the 
seal. 

"Ah,  of  course — how  stupid  of  me,"  she  said. 
"It's  over  there  on  the  mantelpiece — might  I 
ask  you — " 

Morris  turned  at  once. 

Had  she  the  courage?     Would  he  look  back 


THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY  85 

.  .  .  she  opened  the  left  hand  drawer  .  .  .  she 
never  took  her  eyes  from  Morris  .  .  .  she  opened 
the  right  hand  drawer  ...  he  half  turned  and 
she  sat  rigid  .  .  .  would  he  ...  no,  he  went 
further  in  his  search  .  .  .  and  she  lifted  the  Box 
with  the  Tiara  into  the  right  hand  drawer,  just 
as  she  drew  out  the  box  from  the  left  hand 
drawer,  and  put  it  in  the  other's  place  .  .  . 
she  closed  both  the  drawers  quietly  .  .  .  the 
blood  surged  and  pounded  in  her  head  .  .  .  her 
heart  seemed  bursting  .  .  .  she  stifled  a  gasp  and 
leaned  back  heavily  as  Morris  exclaimed,  "Is — 
is  this  it?" 

"Thank  you.  Would  you  mind  lighting  the 
wax  .  .  .  I — I  am  afraid  I  am  rather  nervous 
tonight — my  hand  shakes.  .  .  ." 

Morris  had  seen  the  same  sort  of  thing  before, 
and  murmured  that  it  was  always  distressing  for 
ladies  to  be  mixed  up  in  matters  of  business.  He 
trusted  she  would  now  have  no  further  cause  for 
anxiety.  He  would  hear  from  her  again?" 

"Yes,  yes,  of  course,  Mr.  Morris — shall  repay 
you  without  fail — " 

Morris  bowed. 


86  THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY 

"I  merely  meant,  how  long  might  your  lady- 
ship wish — " 

"Immediately  after  the  Grand  Prix,"  Marion 
answered  quickly,  "that  is — er — directly  I  return 
from  Paris." 

i 

"Quite  so."  There  was  just  a  tinkle  of  sar- 
casm in  the  voice  of  the  Pawnbroker.  "After  the 
Grand  Prix,  I  have  no  doubt  I  shall  hear  from 
your  ladyship  again!" 

He  bowed  himself  out.  Marion  stood,  it 
seemed  for  an  age,  till  she  heard  the  front  door 
close  heavily — upon  her  honor,  upon  her  heart 
.  .  .  she  had  taken  the  man's  money  ...  he 
had  gone  .  .  .  and  left  her  there  ...  a  Crimi- 
nal! A  Swindler.  .  .  . 

She  dared  not  think  .  .  .  she  could  not  stop 

now  .  .  .  she    must    go    on  ...  quickly  .  .  . 

• 

she  dashed  to  the  right  hand  drawer,  tore  out 
the  white  box,  broke  it  into  a  dozen  fragments 
and  tossed  them  into  the  basket  under  the  desk 
.  .  .  she  replaced  the  Tiara  in  its  velvet  case,  and 
took  it  back  to  Lady  Goldbury  with  thanks  arid 
excuses.  It  was  too  gorgeous,  too  valuable — » 
she  could  not  think  of  wearing  it. 


THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY  87 

"Very  well,"  Lady  Goldbury  answered,  neither 
could  she.  So  it  must  return  to  the  Bank  again 
for  another  year  or  two.  .  .  . 

.  .  .  "Where  no  one  will  see  it,  what  a  pity," 
Noel  Ferrers  commented  as  he  caught  Marion's 
eye.  .  .  . 

She  was  safe  then  ...  at  any  rate  for  the 
time  .  .  .  till  after  the  Grand  Prix  .  .  .  but 
that  was  a  certainty,  an  absolute  certainty ! 

But  when  the  evening  was  over,  and  she  was 
locked  in  her  room  alone  with  Memory  and 
Conscience — she  turned  to  the  Morphia  needle 
again. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  DESPERATE  RACE 

IT  ain't  Racin' — it's  a  Flower  Show,"  said  an 
old-fashioned  Sportsman,  the  first  time  that 
he  clapped  eyes  on  the  vast  assemblage  at  Long- 
champs.  His  description  was  apt,  and  largely 
accurate. 

Three  fourths  of  the  people  who  flocked  to 
the  great  French  race  course  came  there  to  see 
everything  except  the  horses.  The  paths  among 
the  trees  and  flower  beds,  and  the  interminable 
parade  at  the  back  of  the  tall  Stands  were  more 
popular  than  the  lawns  in  front  of  them. 

The  ghost  of  Isabelle,  the  celebrated  and 
variegated  Flower  Seller  to  the  Jockey  Club,  was 
supposed  to  haunt  the  steps  of  the  Presidential 
Pavilion,  now-a-days  guarded  by  neat  little  Sol- 
diers of  the  Line  in  place  of  the  imposing 


THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY  89 

Cuirassiers  who  were  the  glory  of  the  bygone 
Empire. 

The  Pavilion  was  the  pivot  and  center  of  the 
hour  around  which  the  tide  of  Fashion  flowed. 

Here  came  the  Mannequins — the  girl  models 
— from  the  more  famous  dressmakers  wearing 
the  frocks  which  it  had  been  decreed  should 
govern  the  mode  for  the  ensuing  year.  They 
were  seen  for  the  first  time  on  the  day  of  the 
Grand  Prix,  and  all  chic  Paris  came  to  see  them; 
and  others  besides  the  sporting  section  of  Smart 
Society  came  over  from  London  with  a  similar 
object  in  view. 

Here  the  Kodak  snapped  and  the  busy 
pencil  noted  while  the  horses  were  often  for- 
gotten. But  the  race  was  a  great  race  for  all 
that  English  owners  were  always  eager  to 
win  it  and  it  was  defended  by  the  French  with 
keenness  and  determination.  The  French,  more- 
over, betted  about  it  heavily — often  backing 
their  own  horses  as  Patriots  rather  than  as 
judges  of  sport.  The  Grand  Prix  was,  there- 
fore, a  race  over  which  large  sums  of  money 
could  be  lost  and  won. 


90  tTHE   SINS   OF  SOCIETY; 

Unhappily  there  are  upon  the  Turf  at  all 
times  those  who  remember  that  winning  is 
always  a  problem,  but  losing  can  be  made  a 
certainty. 

Noel  Ferrers  was  one  of  them. 

But  in  this  particular  year  he  could  certainly 
have  won  the  Grand  Prix  had  he  wished  to 
do  so. 

His  decision  hung  in  the  balance  until  the 
eleventh  hour. 

He  determined  not  to  back  the  Dragon 
until  the  last  minute  and  he  made  his  plans 
accordingly.  He  did  not  in  any  case  intend  to 
back  the  horse  openly  upon  the  course.  His 
trusted  Commissioner  had  a  sheaf  of  written 
telegrams  in  his  pocket  ready  for  instant  despatch 
when  the  right  moment  came — and  when  the 
time  for  the  race  drew  nearer  and  the  excite- 
ment began  to  increase,  he  wondered  at  the  reason 
for  delay. 

Just  then  drums  began  to  rattle,  a  military 
band  blared,  Gendarmes  and  Sergents  de  Ville 
cleared  a  way  through  the  pushing  crowd  and  a 
Guard  of  Honor  came  at  a  rattling  trot  along 


THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY  9* 

the  gravelled  drive.  People  stood  on  chairs, 
waved  their  handkerchiefs  and  race  cards, 
cheering  loudly  as  the  bayonets  of  the  soldiers 
flashed  to  the  salute,  and  the  open  barouche  of 
the  gray-haired  President  of  the  Republic  stopped 
before  the  Pavilion. 

Smiling,  bowing,  with  his  wife  on  his  arm, 
Monsieur  Fallieres  passed  out  of  sight.  More 
cheering  welcomed  his  appearance  in  the  Presi- 
dential Box. 

Meantime  Marion  Beaumont  feverishly  waited 
for  the  coming  race,  and  thought  only  of  the 
Dragon. 

Noel  Ferrers  looked  at  Dorian  March  and 
thought  of  Gwen.  Fate  had  played  into  his 
hand  beyond  his  expectation.  Marion,  having 
once  accepted  his  advice,  pursued  it  to  its 
logical  conclusion.  She  had  borrowed  seven 
thousand  pounds  from  Morris  on — "Security." 
If  by  risking  one  thousand  she  could  get  out  of 
all  her  difficulties,  she  could  by  risking  two 
thousand  win  a  small  fortune.  By  risking 
three  a  large  one.  By  risking  more  she  could 
win  more.  She  hated  poverty.  She  loved 


92  THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY 

luxury.  She  had  gambled  away  everything 
she  possessed  save  a  small  jointure.  Here 
was  affluence  within  her  grasp.  It  was  a 
"certainty."  She  had  risked  her  honor  because 
it  was  a  "certainty."  Why  not  reap  the  full 
harvest  of  her  risk? 

She  paid  her  card  debts  at  the  Club  and  she 
repaid  Lady  Goldbury,  but — with  every  other 
shilling  of  the  borrowed  money  she  backed  the 
Dragon  at  the  longest  odds  that  she  could  get. 

And  why  not? 

It  was  a  "certainty!" 

When  she  told  Ferrers  he  smiled  and  said 
she  was  a  fine  "Sportsman."  Nothing  venture, 
nothing  win! 

But  even  he  looked  a  little  grave  when  he 
thought  of  what  must — must  inevitably — happen, 
if-! 

The  thought  was  in  his  mind  when  he 
glanced  at  his  watch,  and  managed  to  intercept 
Gwen  as  the  crowd  for  a  moment  separated 
her  from  the  Duchess  of  Danebury  and  the 
English  Party  with  whom  she  had  come  over  to 


THE    SINS   OF    SOCIETY  93 

see  her  first  Grand  Prix,  and  pay  her  first  visit 
to  Paris. 

The  girl  was  happy,  excited,  delighted,  just 
a  shade  flushed,  a  perfect  type  of  her  class  and 
of  her  race,  she  looked  more  beautiful,  more 
fascinating  than  ever  amidst  the  highly  decorated, 
and  kaleidoscopic,  cosmopolitan  crowd. 

For  over  a  week — since  the  night  that  he  had 
dined  at  the  house  of  her  sister — Ferrers  had 
studiously  avoided  her.  In  the  whole  of  his  life 
he  had  never  spoken  a  word  to  her  beyond  the 
ordinary  commonplace  of  casual  conversation. 
Yet  instinctively  she  shrank  from  him  and  felt 
constrained  and  on  her  guard  in  his  presence. 
Her  manner  showed  it  perhaps.  In  any  case 
Ferrers  realized  that  while  he  could  talk  easily 
to  women  of  the  world  there  was  nothing  in  com- 
mon between  himself  and  this  sweet  and  simple 
girl. 

But  it  only  whetted  his  appetite.  He  looked 
at  her  as  a  wolf  looks  into  the  sheep  fold,  wait- 
ing for  the  shepherd  to  be  gone.  He  had  waited 
as  the  wolf  waits — in  grim  silence. 

Something,  however,  possibly  the  thought  of 


94  THE  SINS   OF   SOCIETY 

Marion,  of  all  she  had  done,  of  all  that  must—' 
must  inevitably — happen,  suddenly  loosened  his 
tongue.  His  Commissioner  was  standing  near 
waiting  for  final  orders.  His  jockey,  little  Jack- 
man,  was  close  by.  The  Saddling  Bell  would 
ring  directly.  Then • 

"Won't  you  sit  down  for  a  minute  with  me 
and  look  at  the  frocks?"  Ferrers  said  to  Gwen. 

"Thanks,"  she  answered,  "I — er — I'm  not  very 
much  in  love  with  frocks,  you  know." 

"Not  other  people's,  of  course.  But  don't 
you  like  to  wear  them — to  be  able  to  buy  them, 
and  all  the  other  pretty  things  that  were  meant 
for  pretty  ladies?" 

"O,  they  are  all  very  nice,  Mr.  Ferrers,  but 
—but  money  can't  buy  everything." 

"Hum,"  Ferrers  shook  his  head.  "Better  be  a 
rich  man's  darling  than  a  young  man's  slave." 

"/  shall  be  no  one's  slave  1"   Gwen  flashed. 

"An  old  man's  darling  even,  rather  than  a 
young  man's  slave?" 

"I  don't  think  age  counts  in — er — " 

"Marriage?"  said  Ferrers  quickly. 

"It  doesn't  count  in  Love." 


TOE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY  95 

"I — I  am  glad  you  think  that,"  said  Ferrers 
earnestly :  he  knew  he  was  over  forty  and  looked 
it.  "I — I  hope  you  always  will." 

"Yes?"  Gwen  answered.  Straight  in  front 
of  her,  a  dozen  yards  away,  Dorian  March 
stood  in  the  sunlight,  very  tall,  handsome,  and 
young. 

"I  don't  think  the  question  will  trouble  me 
very  much,"  she  added. 

Ferrers  followed  her  eye. 

"It  is — "  he  said,  "It  is  the  privilege  o£ 
ladies — sometimes,  to  change  their  minds." 

Then  Gwendolin  Ashley  pronounced  her  sister's 
doom. 

"My  mind  is  quite  made  up,"  she  said,  firmly 
and  with  intention. 

Ferrers'  jaw  set. 

"So  is  mine,"  he  said. 

"About  what—?" 

He  looked  into  her  eyes  hungrily,  savagely. 
"My  chance  of  winning  the — Great  Prize." 

Without  another  word  he  turned  away  to  his 
Commissioner. 

"I  am  not  betting,"  he  said  to  him  in  a  low, 


96  THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY 

sharp  voice,  "the  horse  doesn't  look  as  well  as  I 
could  wish.  You  can  tear  up  those  telegrams." 

With  his  hand  on  the  shoulder  of  Jackman 
he  disappeared  in  the  crowd,  leaving  the  Com- 
missioner staring  after  him,  open  mouthed. 

And  just  then  the  Saddling  Bell  clanged  and 
the  Gendarmes  began  to  clear  the  course. 

Whatever  else  in  the  way  of  sport  the  crowd 
ignored,  it  always  crushed  to  see  the  one  great 
race  itself.  Soon  the  lawns  and  the  huge  stands 
were  packed  to  overflowing  while  for  the  moment 
the  open  garden-like  parade  was  left  empty  and 
deserted. 

Here  for  the  moment  three  people  remained 
alone.  James  Hogg,  ecstatically  happy  at 
being  permitted  to  do  so  for  that  particular 
afternoon,  fluttered  in  constant  attendance  on 
Lady  Goldbury,  who  never  left  Marion  for 
very  long  together — since  the  pale  face  of  the 
latter,  and  her  momentary  nervousness  and 
agitation  troubled  her. 

"Aren't  you  coming  to  see  the  Race,  dear?" 
she  asked. 

"I  can't." 


THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY  97 

"Can't?" 

"I— I  daren't!" 

"But  why—?" 

"Because  it — means  so  much — " 

"To  you,  dear?" 

"Yes!    It  means — a — Fortune — " 

"You — you've  been  gambling  again — O  Ma- 
rion I — betting — ?" 

"Yes — no,  I  mean  it's  not  a  gamble — it's  a 
"certainty" — and  a  Fortune,  too! — what's  that!" 

She  started  as  a  big  shout  rent  the  air. 

"Nothing,  dear — they're  only  cheering  the 
President  coming  out  into  his  Box." 

"Ah !  They'll  be  cheering  the  Dragon  directly ! 
What  are  they  waiting  for!  Why  doesn't  the 
race  begin!" 

"Come,  come,"  said  Lady  Goldbury,  "Sit  here 
with  me  now — it  will  be  run  in  a  few  minutes. 
Mr.  Hogg,  take  your  glasses — tell  us  what  they 
are  doing." 

Hogg,  standing  on  the  steps  at  the  back  of 
the  President's  Pavilion  could  see  most  of  the 
course,  through  a  gap  between  the  Stands. 

"They  are  at  the—"   ("at  the  Post"  he  was 


9.8  THE  SINS   OF   SOCIETY, 

going  to  say,  but  suddenly  realized  that  the 
phrase  revealed  a  greater  familiarity  with  Race 
course  colloquialisms  than  he  wished  to  display 
in  the  presence  of  Lady  Goldbury.  So  he  coughed 
and  recast  his  phrase)  "The — er — the  Horses  are 
waiting  to  commence,  I  think." 

"You  know  the  colors,"  Marion  asked  quickly, 
"Don't  forget— Mr.  Ferrers— All  Yellow." 

Hogg  knew  them  perfectly,  but  he  ostenta- 
tiously consulted  his  card. 

"O — ah-r-yes — quite  so,  All  Yellow — Number 
Seven." 

"That's  it — Seven — the  Lucky  Number! — the 
Favorite  is  the  French  horse  Mentor — Blue  and 
iVVhite  Hoops—" 

"Yes— number  Nine." 

"There's  nothing  else  in  it  but  Rattle — Black 
and  White  Cap — number  Three." 

"Yes — I  see  them  all  by  the  Starting  Ga — er 
— ham,  in  front  of  a  white  barrier  sort  of  thing 
.  .  .  they  are  moving  slowly  towards  it  ... 
there  is  a  white  flag  flying  .  .  .  ' 

Marion  held  her  breath.  There  was  a  tense 
silence  in  the  very  air.  She  noticed  that  the 


THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY)  99 

strong  sunlight  threw  shadows  even  from  the 
blades  of  grass  .  .  .  she  heard  birds  twittering 
in  the  branches  overhead  .  .  .  the  crunch  of  the 
sentry's  heel  as  he  turned  on  the  gravel  scratched 
her  brain  as  a  finger  nail  tears  linen  .  .  .  the 
flowers  glared  too  vividly  from  the  parterre  .  .  . 

"They're  of!!" 

It  is  always  a  curious  sound  at  the  start  of 
any  race  .  .  .  but  when  twenty  thousand  voices 
shout  the  same  thing  at  one  and  the  same  instant 
there  is  a  marvellously  impressive  weight  behind 
the  words  .  .  . 

...  In  an  instant  the  dead  still  motionless, 
silent,  waiting,  watching  crowd  was  swept  by 
movement,  restlessness,  and  wild  excitement — 
people  strained  to  see  the  horses,  stood  on  chairs 
— asked  questions — called  to  others  in  the  Stands 
— shouted  encouragements  unheeded  and  unheard 
to  horse  and  jockey  as  they  thundered  past,  an 
avalanche  of  straining  nerve  and  muscle  capped 
with  whimpering  silk  .  .  . 

"What's  in  front?    Mr.  Hogg— please— " 
1  'Rattle',  making  the   running  like — er  hem 
— galloping  quite  swiftly." 


ioo         THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY 

"And  the  Dragon?" 

"Inside,  next  the — er — nearest  to  the  further 
white  railing." 

"Mentor—?" 

"Going  strong — " 

"Anything  else  dangerous — ?" 

"Nothing  that  I  can  see  ...  my!  the  pace 
is  a  cracker  .  .  .  Field  trailing  to  nothing  .  .  . 
some  of  them  riding  now  .  .  .  ' 

Lady  Goldbury  stared  in  astonishment.  "Mr. 
Hogg — ?"  she  said.  But  Marion  Beaumont 
grasped  her  arm. 

"Go  on,"  she  cried,  "you  can  see — tell  me — I 
daren't  look— !" 

"They're  at  the  bend!"  The  passion  of  the 
race  had  seized  Hogg  by  the  throat,  he  forgot 
everything  in  the  joy  of  the  struggle.  "Coming 
round — Gad!  Jackman's  an  artist! — in  the 
straight— now  they're — Rattle's  BEAT!— Ha!  Ha! 

that  whip's  no  good,  my  boy — you're  done — 

Dragon  walks  in! — go  on,  Jackman — nothing  left 
but  Mentor — remember  his  turn  of  speed — go  on 
— don't  chance  it, — he's  too  near  you — go  on,  boy — 
he's  at  your  quarters — don't  draw  it  fine — Jack- 


THE    SINS   OF   SOCIETY          101 

man!  go  on! — he's  at  your  girth — your  shoulder 
— your  neck — at  Dragon's  head — they're  locked !  ! 
— the  Finish — it's  stride  for  stride — ride,  Jackman ! 
you  must  win — Damn  it!  what  are  you  doin'? — 
go  on — ride,  boy,  ride!" 

Hogg  sprang  from  the  steps  and  vanished. 

It  was  over! 

A  great  roar  went  up  from  the  crowd. 

"I've  won!"   cried  Marion,   "Victory  ..." 

But  Lady  Goldbury  stood  still  with  uplifted 
hand  .  .  .  the  roar  of  the  crowd  was  not  the 
grand  generous  cheer  that  greets  a  winner  .  .  . 
beneath  it  crackled  an  angry  coppery  thunder 
...  a  deep  bass  note  .  .  .  what  was  it?  ... 
what  did  it  mean?  ...  it  swelled  to  a  savage 
howl  of  execration!  ...  it  centered  about  the 
horses  as  they  came  back  to  weigh  in  ...  a 
yelling  crowd  swirled  and  surged  .  .  .  fists  and 
sticks  were  shaken  .  .  .  suddenly  the  bright 
jacket  of  a  jockey  vanished  ...  he  had  been 
pulled  from  his  horse  and  the  crowd  were  after 
him!  .  .  .  white  and  terrified,  the  boy  plunged 
for  safety  through  the  fashionable  mob  on  the 
lawn  .  .  but  even  there  he  found  neither  sane- 


iroa         THE  SINS   OF  SOCIETY 

tuary  nor  mercy  .  .  .  like  a  hunted  beast  he  fled 
through  a  gap  in  the  stand,  only  to  find  retreat 
cut  off  on  every  hand  ...  in  an  access  of  despair 
he  dashed  towards  the  sentries  round  the  Presi- 
dent's Pavilion  ...  on  its  very  steps  his  pur- 
suers ran  into  their  quarry. 

It  was  an  ugly  scene  .  .  .   ! 

Into  the  midst  of  it  the  strong,  square  shoulders 
of  Noel  Ferrers  forced  their  way.  He  could  "put 
up  his  hands"  very  prettily  at  a  push — and  he 
did  not  hesitate.  He  gave  no  heed  to  blows  or 
curses  till  he  stood  over  the  bruised  and  draggled 
body  of  little  Jackman  and  hit  out  right  and  left 
...  a  line  of  Gendarmes  were  pressing  to  the 
rescue  ...  in  an  instant  he  picked  up  the  boy 
like  a  feather  and  with  one  mighty  rush  carried 
him  through  and  flung  him — at  Marion  Beau- 
mont's feet. 

The  Boy  whimpered — blood  was  trickling  down 
his  face  .  .  . 

"Good  God!    What  is  it—"  she  cried. 

"We've  been  robbed — that's  all,"  hissed  Fer- 
rers— Was  his  anger  a  shade  unreal?  "We've 
been  robbed !  The  little  thief  pulled  my  horse  in 


THE  SINS  OE  SOCIETY          103 

the  last  stride — pulled  him  when  he  had  the  race 
in  hand — pulldd  him! — the  crowd  saw  it — and 
want  to  lynch  him — that's  all!" 

"Pulled!"  Marion  gasped,  "Pulled?  What 
d'you  mean.  He's  won!" 

"No!"  came  the  answer,  "Second — beaten  a 
head — Mentor  first — Mentor,  the  French  horse, 
first  .  .  .  !" 

The  Great  Race  was  over  .  .  . 

The  trumpet  notes  of  the  Marseillaise,  crashed 
out  in  triumph  from  the  Military  Band  ...  a 
mixed  roar  of  cheers  and  execration  rose  from 
the  crowd  .  .  .  but  Marion  Beaumont  saw  only 
before  her  the  impassive  face  of  Morris,  the 
searching  eyes,  the  white  pointed  beard  .  .  .  she 
heard  only  the  dry,  quiet  voice  saying: 

"I  have  no  doubt,  my  lady,  I  shall  hear  from 
you  again,  after  the  Great  Race  .  .  .  ' 

Then  she  reeled  and  fell  forward  on  the  grass, 
insensible. 


CHAPTER  IV 

IN  THE  TOILS 

MORRIS  the  Pawnbroker  read  the  para- 
graph carefully  three  separate  times. 

It  was  not  contained  in  a  hurried  report.  He 
found  it  in  the  columns  of  The  Dais,  a  responsible 
and  reliable  Society  journal,  and  he  knew  that 
he  could  depend  upon  its  accuracy. 

He  put  the  paper  down  and  reflected.  Two 
weeks  had  passed  since  the  Grand  Prix  had  been 
run,  but  he  had  not  heard  from  Lady  Marion 
Beaumont.  This  had  not  surprised  him.  Ladies 
are  frequently  casual  and  unbusinesslike ;  besides, 
she  might  not  yet  have  returned  from  Paris. 
Still  .  .  . 

After  a  moment's  thought  he  went  to  the 
telephone  and  rang  up  the  Victoria  Club,  and 
asked  for  Mr.  Hiram  Marks,  the  well-known 


105 

Book-maker.  Marks  had  been  under  obliga- 
tions to  him  on  more  than  one  occasion  when 
he  had  wanted  money  in  a  hurry.  Marks  had 
often  given  him  useful  information  in  return. 
Marks— "Hullo,"  "What?  Yes— Lady  Marion 
punted  a  bit  pretty  often — rather  lucky  as  a  rule 
— what?  The  Grand  Prix — O  ah! — yes — in  the 
cart  with  the  rest  of  'em — all  the  clever  division 
— had  their  shirts  down  on  Dragon — thought  it 
was  a  cop — she's  a  pal  of  the  owner — Ferrers — 
and  plunged — how  much?  find  out  if  you  like — 
but  a  bad  race — I  took  two  thou'  off  her — more 
besides  that  to  others — did  a  faint  after  the  finish 
— the  knock? — can't  say — hasn't  betted  since — 
shall  I  ask — no?  all  right — g'bye." 

She  had  tried  to  win  a  fortune.  But  she  had 
actually  lost  thousands. 

Was  that  the  reason  why  he  had  not  heard 
from  her?  And  now,  would  he  ever  hear? 

Morris  read  the  paragraph  again.  There 
was  nothing  much  in  it  to  the  ordinary  eye.  It 
merely  recounted  the  fact  that  an  Illustrious  Per- 
sonage, to  celebrate  the  laying  of  a  foundation 
stone  of  a  new  Hospital  irr  the  City,  had  elected 


10(5         rTHE  SINS   OF   SOCIETY; 

to  honor  the  Goldsmiths  Company  by  dining  with 
them  in  their  famous  and  historic  Hall. 

The  occasion  had  been  illuminated  by  a 
marvellous  display  of  the  Guild's  priceless  gold 
plate,  and  by  a  brilliant  assemblage  of  City 
notabilities,  among  them  being  Lady  Goldbury, 
who  was  accorded  the  seat  of  honor  which  would 
have  been  the  due  of  her  late  husband,  Sir  Joseph 
Goldbury,  the  eminent  Banker,  a  former  Wor- 
shipful Master  of  the  Goldsmith  Company. 

The  Dais  described  in  detail  Lady  Goldbury's 
dress,  and  it  added  that  appropriately  to  the 
place  and  the  hour  she  wore  the  wonderful  Tiara 
which  was  presented  to  her  by  the  Goldsmiths 
when  she  married  their  esteemed  and  respected 
chief.  The  design  of  this  Tiara,  which  had  never 
been  seen  on  Lady  Goldbury's  head  outside  the 
City,  was  quite  unique.  The  brilliants  were  of 
unusual  purity  and  most  carefully  matched.  They 
were  curiously  inset  with  alternate  Emeralds  and 
Blue  Diamonds. 

This  was  the  exact  description  of  the  Tiara 
that  Lady  Marion  Beaumont  had  pledged  with 
Morris  as  security  for  seven  thousand  pounds. 


Could  there  possibly  be  two?    If  not, — ? 

A  fool  might  have  rushed  to  his  Safe  and 
torn  open  the  sealed  cardboard  box  to  convince 
himself  of  the  truth. 

But  Morris  was  not  a  fool.  If  he  had  found 
that  the  box  were  empty  there  would  be  nothing 
for  it  but  a  criminal  prosecution.  He  could  not 
have  compounded  a  felony.  He  did  not  rush  to 
his  safe  because  he  did  not  want  to  know  too 
much.  He  wanted  his  money.  And  he  pondered 
for  a  little  while  before  he  determined  on  the 
best  way  to  get  it. 

So  he  marked  the  paragraph  in  The  Dais  with 
thick  blue  pencil,  put  the  paper  away  with  the 
Box,  and  patiently  waited  until  the  end  of  the 
week. 

Now  just  at  this  particular  period  "week-end 
cottages"  were  very  much  in  fashion. 

Morris  always  did  what  his  patrons  did  in  a 
modest,  unobtrusive  manner.  He  liked  to  keep 
in  touch  with  them.  For  this  reason  he  had 
for  a  couple  of  seasons  leased  a  comfortable 
little  villa  close  to  the  river  bank,  at  Windsor. 
The  story  of  smart  life  is  written  very  plainly, 


io8          THE   SINS   OF  SOCIETY 

for  those  who  can  read  the  signs,  in  a  crowded 
Lock  on  a  Summer  Sunday. 

Morris  judged  correctly  that  he  would  find 
Lady  Marion  Beaumont  at  her  Windsor  Cot- 
tage on  any  fine  Saturday  afternoon. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  she  had  gone  there 
immediately  upon  her  return  from  Paris.  Lon- 
don was  unbearable  to  her.  She  could  not  face 
her  friends  by  day  nor  the  roar  and  hammer  of 
the  noise  at  night.  Her  brain  ached.  Every 
nerve  was  on  edge.  She  tried  vainly  to  "pull  her- 
self together,"  to  think  calmly  and  deliberately. 
The  result  was  always  the  same.  Tears,  hysteria, 
panic,  and — morphia! 

Noel  Ferrers,  on  the  excuse  of  imperative 
business,  kept  away,  despite  appealing  letters. 
He  had  no  intention  of  hurrying  his  master 
stroke. 

Marion  could  not,  dared  not,  confide  in 
Gwen. 

She  could  only  wait,  writhing,  trembling,  till 
it  pleased  her  Arch  Counsellor  to  come  down, 
and  pronounce  on  the  situation. 

Along  the  terraced  walk,  backed  by  a  blaze 


THE    SINS   OF   SOCIETY         109 

of  rhododendrons,  she  paced  for  hours,  gazing 
aimlessly  at  the  lovely  landscape  and  the  broad 
stretch  of  sunlight  river  that  swept  and  curved 
below  the  steep  slope  to  the  Castle. 

Gwen  found  ample  leisure  for  long  uninter- 
rupted talks  with  Dorian,  and  the  lovers  would 
have  been  happy  enough  but  for  the  growing 
anxiety  inspired  by  Marion's  pale,  drawn  face. 

Dorian  was  not  a  rich  man,  and  like  most 
young  soldiers  lived  cheerfully  above  his  income. 
He  felt  that  Marion's  trouble  was  financial,  but 
he  was  powerless  to  help  her.  He  could  only 
condole  with  her  upon  her  health,  and  when  he 
did  so  he  knew  that  he  was  talking  nonsense. 

Once  or  twice  Lady  Goldbury  motored  down 
from  town  for  afternoon  tea,  and  sometimes 
James  Hogg  ventured  to  call,  for  he  also  had 
gone  in  for  the  proper  thing — a  River  cottage — 
where  he  assiduously  and  surreptitiously  sought 
to  acquire  such  a  proficiency  in  manly  exercises 
as  he  hoped  would  meet  with  Lady  Goldbury's 
approval. 

Night  after  night  he  crept  out  quietly  with 
sculls,  or  punt  pole.  And  day  after  day — as  a 


rule — he  paid  for  the  incidental  damage!  He 
had  listened  to  language  choice  and  varied  when 
he  plunged  into  a  house  boat  at  midnight  with 
all  the  determination  of  an  ironclad  ram,  or  had 
nearly  overturned  a  skiff  drifting  beneath  the 
silent  stars  while  love's  young  dream  nestled  with 
a  guitar  amidst  the  cushions  in  the  stern.  By 
day  he  "punched  the  ball"  and  swung  dumb-bells. 
By  night  he  perspired  in  his  punt — when  he  did 
not  fall  heavily  out  of  it. 

It  was  an  uphill  struggle.  But  he  thought 
of  Lady  Goldbury,  and  persevered. 

And  she  encouraged  him — for  it  kept  him  away 
from  Town!  At  least  that  is  what  she  said. 
As  a  matter  of  fact  the  man's  devotion  and  sim- 
plicity began  to  attract  her  a  good  deal.  He 
was  a  keen  business  man  and  could  talk  figures 
all  day  long,  but  he  did  not  eat,  dream,  and  think 
money  like  the  people  in  the  City.  He  was  ab- 
solutely natural  and  entirely  unpretentious — very 
unlike  the  people  in  Society. 

An  hour  with  Hogg  was  a  refreshing  change. 

So  one  brilliant  Saturday  afternoon  her  motor 
stopped  outside  his  River  cottage.  And  presently 


THE  SINS  OF  SOCIETY          in 

she  took  him  on  to  tea  with  Marion  Beau- 
mont. 

It  was  a  blazing  day  and  they  sat  in  the  gar- 
den, with  Gwen  and  Dorian,  of  course,  while 
Lady  Goldbury  dilated  on  the  glories  of  the 
Goldsmiths'  recent  Reception,  of  Illustrious  af- 
fability, and  the  hideous  frocks  worn  by  other 
women  and  the  beauties  of  her  own.  There 
was  a  sketch  of  it  in  The  Dais — with  pardon- 
able pride  she  had  brought  down  a  copy  for 
Gwen,  who  half  aloud  began  to  read  out  the 
Description. 

Marion  paid  very  little  heed.  She  seized  the 
chance  of  questioning  Hogg  about  the  Industrial 
Cotton  Company — the  Company  out  of  which 
Ferrers  had  hinted  she  might  possibly  "make  a 
good  thing."  She  had  almost  forgotten  it.  But 
suddenly  it  loomed  before  her,  not  as  a  last  straw, 
but  as  a  raft  of  refuge. 

But  it  melted  at  her  touch. 

No.  Hogg  told  her,  glancing  at  Lady  Gold- 
bury,  that  he  did  not  mean  to  pursue  the  promo- 
tion. His  mills  and  factories  had  begun  to 
interest  him.  He  had  abandoned  his  intention 


ii2  THE  SINS  OF  SOCIETY 

of  returning  to  Australia.  He  had  determined 
to  remain  in  England  and  run  his  business  him- 
self. The  Company  was  "off." 

There  was  no  hope  in  that  direction.  .  .  . 

"Oh !    So  you  wore  the  Tiara  after  all !" 

Marion  started.  .  .  . 

"What— what's  that,  Gwen?"  she  asked. 

"The  Tiara — you  know — the  one  you  wouldn't 
wear  for  Boadicea — Lady  Goldbury's — she  wore 
it  after  all  at  the  Goldsmiths' — here's  all  about  it 
in  The  Dais," 

She  brought  the  paper  over  to  her  sister,  who 
stared  at  it  in  stupefied  horror  .  .  .  "brilliants." 
.  .  .  "inset  Emeralds  and  Blue  Diamonds." 
.  .  .  Good  God! — If  Morris  should  see? 

"I  never  thought  I  should,"  Lady  Goldbury 
explained.  "But  it's  a  sort  of  sacred  rite  when 
I  visit  the  Guild  on  State  occasions — they'd  as 
soon  expect  to  see  me  without  my  petticoat!" 

The  others  laughed.  Lady  Goldbury  chattered 
on. 

Marion's  heart  was  in  her  throat.  Had  the 
end — the  inevitable  end — come  suddenly  and  at 
last? 


THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY          113 

She  tried  to  steady  her  thoughts.  There 
could  be  two  Tiaras — almost  alike.  Why  not? 
But  if  Morris  suspected — doubted — wanted  his 


money 

A  maid  announced  "Mr.  Ferrers  ..."  and 
Marion  almost  sprang  to  her  feet. 

"Noel  Ferrers  .  .  .  at  last!" 

Broad  shouldered,  calm,  unruffled,  confident, 
every  line  of  the  resolute  face  inspired  hope. 

She  packed  off  the  others  to  tea  in  the  house, 
and,  almost  before  they  were  out  of  hearing, 
thrust  the  paper  into  his  hands. 

"Read  it,"  she  cried,  "there — ruin — if  Morris 
sees  it — " 

"He  will  probably  ask  for  his  money,"  said 
Ferrers  coolly. 

"And  you  know  I  can't  pay  him !" 

"I  don't  see  that  it  makes  any  difference.  He 
was  bound  to  ask  for  it  some  day — sooner  or 
later—" 

"But  I  hoped  to  make  some.  I — I  thought  I 
could  depend — that  you  would  help  me,  show  me 
somehow  how  to — to  win — " 

"I  tried,  my  dear  lady,  no  man  could  do  more. 


ii4         THE  SINS  OF   SOCIETY 

It  didn't  come  off.  Upon  my  word,  I  hardly  like 
risking  advice  again — " 

"You  mean  you  won't  help  me?" 

Ferrers  smiled  curiously.  He  took  from  his 
pocket  a  small  package.  "In  your  letter  yester- 
day, you  intrusted  me  with  a  small  commission. 
I  always  do  my  best  to  gratify  your  wishes." 

He  bowed  and  handed  to  her — a  phial  of 
Morphia. 

"It's  a  bad  habit,"  he  went  on.  "But  at  any 
rate  it  helps  one  to  forget — while  waiting." 

"Waiting!"  exclaimed  Marion.  "Waiting  for 
what?" 

"For  something  to  happen — before  Morris 
opens  the  Box." 

Marion  turned  deadly  pale  and  reeled  against 
a  garden  chair. 

"That  is  the  danger,"  Ferrers  said  calmly. 
"There  would  be  no  hope  after  that.  As  long 
as  he  only  worries  for  his  money  you  are  safe. 
But  if  for  any  reason  he  wants  to  realize  his 
security — " 

The  trim  Maid  came  across  the  lawn  with  a 
visiting  card  on  a  silver  tray. 


THE   SINS  OE  SOCIETY         115 

Marion  waved  her  away. 

"I  am  out,"  she  said  impatiently.  The  Girl 
hesitated. 

"The  Gentleman  said  it  was  on  business,  my 
lady — rather  important." 

Marion  glanced  at  the  card,  then  looked  at 
Ferrers  with  the  one  word  "Morris." 

"See  him,"  he  whispered. 

Marion  nodded  to  the  Maid. 

"Here,"  she  said  shortly. 

"Keep  cool.  Be  careful,"  Ferrers  admonished. 
'I'll  wait  close  by.  Remember — any  excuse  for 
^elay— " 

\"And  then  .  .  .   ?" 

"I'll  tell  you  when  he  is  gone.  There  1*5  just 
one  chance  if — tist!" 

He  slid  away  among  the  tall  rhododendrons 
as  Morris  appeared  and  came  forward,  bowing 
ceremoniously. 

"I  trust  your  ladyship  will  forgive  what  must 
appear  like  an  intrusion,"  he  said,  "but  my  at- 
tention has  been  attracted  by  a  paragraph  in  a 
paper  called  The  Dais—"  He  took  a  copy  from 
his  pocket,  and  deferentially  handed  it  to  Marion, 


n6          THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY 

pointing  at  the  same  time  to  a  short,  thick,  blue 
pencil  mark  scored  against  a  column.  "If  your 
ladyship  will  be  so  good  as  to  glance  at  it  you  will 
see  that  a  certain  valuable  Tiara  of  unique  design 
is  minutely  described.  The  description  tallies 
exactly  with  that  of  the  Tiara  which  your  lady- 
ship— er — entrusted  to  my  keeping." 

"Really,"  said  Marion  with  a  forced  smile 
as  she  looked  up  from  the  paper.  "What  a 
curious — er — coincidence." 

"It  is,"  said  Morris,  "so  much  so  that  I  have 
come  here  on  purpose  to  assure  your  ladyship 
that  the  Box  remains  exactly  as  you  gave  it  to 
me — your  seal  unbroken." 

"I  have  no  doubt  of  it,  Mr.  Morris,  but  you 
are  very  kind.  Believe  me,  I  have  every  con- 
fidence— " 

"I  am  obliged,  my  lady,  but  I  do  wish  that 
your  ladyship  would  positively  prove  to  your- 
self—" 

"Prove  .  .  .  ?" 

"Yes.  I  have  brought  the  Box  down  with 
me  to-day.  It  is  in  my  safe  at  my  cottage — 
perhaps  your  ladyship  knows  it — River  Bank? 


THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY          117 

— and  if  your  ladyship  would  only  open  the 
Box—" 

Morris  did  not  look  at  her.  But  his  keen  ear 
caught  the  tremble  in  her  voice  through  the  af- 
fected laugh. 

"Indeed,  Mr.  Morris,  you  need  not  trouble. 
I  am  perfectly  satisfied,  and  have  no  doubts — " 

"I  have,  my  lady,"  Morris  answered,  "I  am 
sorry  to  say — grave  doubts."  He  watched  the 
color  come  and  go  in  the  frightened  woman's 
face.  His  doubts  were  certainties!  But  he  fol- 
lowed the  course  of  action  he  had  mapped  out 
to  the  end. 

"Honesty,"  he  went  on,  "is  a  more  rare  quality 
than  your  ladyship  supposes.  Though  I  pick 
and  choose  the  men  in  my  employ  most  carefully 
— I  have  more  than  once  been  grievously  disap- 
pointed. For  the  sake  of  all  who  do  business 
with  me,  and  trust  me  with  valuable  securities, 
I  must  always  use  my  best  endeavors  to  be  sure 
that  there  is  no  thief  about  me.  It  is  due  both 
to  my  clients  and  to  my  reputation.  Your  Box  is 
sealed,  apparently  quite  safe — but  even  if  you  are 
satisfied,  I  should  like  to  be  quite  sure  myself 


n8         THE  SINS  OF  SOCIETY 

that   what   it   should   contain  is   safe   as   well." 

"It  seems  very  ridiculous,"  Marion  answered, 
"but  if  it  will  give  you  the  smallest  satisfaction, 
Mr.  Morris,  one  day  when  I  am  in  town  I  will 
call—" 

"I  mentioned  that  to  save  your  ladyship 
trouble,  I  had  brought  the  Box  down  here," 
Morris  interrupted. 

"I  am  perfectly  aware  of  it,"  said  Marion 
decisively,  "but  just  at  present  I  have  a  number 
of  engagements — " 

"I  beg  your  ladyship  to  excuse  my  anxiety, 
but  I  fear  you  hardly  realize  the  value  of  your 
Tiara.  If  it  is  missing  and  you  called  on  me  to 
replace  it — as  you  undoubtedly  would — the  loss 
to  me  would  be  a  severe  one.  In  justice  to 
myself,  I  must  press  the  matter." 

"Press,  Mr.  Morris  .  .  .    ?" 

" — If  your  ladyship  will  not  voluntarily  assist 
me.  The  Box  ought  most  emphatically  to  be 
opened  to-night.  I  will  bring  it  here  with  pleas- 
ure—" 

"I  shall  be  out." 

"To-morrow — ?" 


THE   SINS  OF   SOCIETY          119 

"I  am  returning  to  town." 

"Then  Monday—?" 

"I  really  cannot  say." 

"I  am  sorry."  The  voice  was  still  quiet  and 
courteous,  but  the  note  hardened.  "Your  lady- 
ship's attitude  compels  me  to  a  decision.  At 
my  office  in  London  on  Monday  at  twelve 
o'clock  in  the  presence  of  my  Solicitor — and 
I  hope  of  your  ladyship — /  shall  open  the. 
Box—" 

"Mr.  Morris!—" 

"I  have  explained  to  your  ladyship  the  im- 
perative necessity.  I  will  not  trespass  further  on 
your  time — " 

"I  protest—!" 

"I  regret  .  .  .  on  Monday,  at  twelve  o'clock." 

Morris  bowed  and  moved  silently  away  across 
the  soft  green  lawn. 

The  next  instant  Ferrers  stood  at  Marion's 
elbow. 

"Well-?"  he  said. 

"On  Monday,"  the  scared  woman  whispered 
hoarsely,  grasping  his  arm,  "on  Monday — at 
twelve  o'clock  .  .  " 


"He  will  open  the  Box.  He— he  will  know  I 
am  a  CRIMINAL!" 

"Shall  you  let  him?" 

"Let !  !    How  can  I  prevent — " 

"Pay  his  money." 

"Seven  thousand  pouuds — I  haven't  a  shilling 
— you  know  it — who  will  lend  seven  thousand 
tome!" 

"/  will." 

"You— I   !" 

She  turned  with  a  great  sob  of  gratitude,  and 
her  eyes  swam  with  tears.  Then  she  sank  sob- 
bing on  a  chair. 

"I — I  knew  you'd  help  me — I  knew  you  would 
save  me  at  the  finish,"  she  blurted.  "You  at 
least  were  always  a  real  friend — you" 

"And  I  always  shall  be,  if  you'll  let  me,"  said 
Ferrers.  "I've  had  a  bad  time,  as  I  told  you,  it 
will  be  a  squeeze  to  get  the  money  just  at  the 
moment,  but  don't  be  afraid,  you  shall  have  it 
all  right  .  .  .  at  a  price." 

"Price — ?"    She  looked  at  him  quickly. 

"Certainly.  At  a  price,"  he  said.  "Now 
realize  exactly  what  this  means  to  you.  You 


THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY          121 

realize  exactly  what  this  means  to  you.  You 
are  face  to  face  with  ruin,  utter  disgrace,  and 
gaol — a  most  unpleasant  place  for  a  lady  in  your 
position." 

She  stared  at  him  blankly.  There  was  a 
strange  sardonic  ring  in  his  voice.  .  .  . 

"I  treat  life  as  I  find  it,  Lady  Marion,"  he 
went  on.  "Up  to  the  present  moment  you  have 
taken  and  I  have  given — without  any  return. 
That  is  the  habit  of  your  class.  But  a  little 
social  patronage  does  not  make  up  for  solid  cash 
advantages.  I  have  waited  patiently  for  my  re- 
ward. Now  I  must  have  it." 

"Have — have  what?"  she  stammered. 

Ferrers  ignored  the  question. 

"Can  Dorian  March  get  you  out  of  the  present 
mess — save  you  from  gaol?"  he  asked. 

"Dorian?    No— !" 

"Then  he  can't  marry  Gwen,  either." 

"GWEN!" 

She  had  risen  to  her  feet. 

"I  can  save  you,"  said  Ferrers.  "And  I  will 
marry  Gwen.  You  can  make  her  if  you  choose. 
Now,  then.  I  will  pay  my  price.  Will  you?" 


122          THE   SINS   OF  SOCIETY, 

"Never—  I" 

llWEy?"  I'm  a  clever  man — sure  to  get  on — 
Member  of  Parliament  and  all  that  some  day — 
you  can  push  us  socially — I  can  help  you 
financially — on  Monday  you'll  stand  in  the  dock 
if  I  don't  save  you.  Give  me  Gwen." 

"Sell  my  own  flesh  and  blood,  to  save 
myself—!" 

"Nothing  else  can." 

"And  you  dare  say  this — you  who  told  me  what 
to  do,  to—" 

"My  dear  lady,  you  were  in  trouble.  I  threw 
out  a  suggestion.  You  were  a  free  agent.  You 
did  the  thing.  I,  culpably  perhaps,  held  my 
tongue.  Unhappily,  I  could  do  no  more.  As  a 
gentleman,  I  could  do  no  less." 

"Ah—" 

" — one  moment.  Heroics  won't  help  you.  I 
know  exactly  what  you've  thought  of  me.  I 
know  exactly  what  use  you  made  of  me.  I  know 
exactly  what  I've  done,  and  how  I've  done  it.  I 
know  exactly  that  you  are  exactly  where  I  meant 
you  to  be.  I  could  get  Gwen  in  no  other 
way.  Now  she  is  mine — mine,  you  understand 


THE  SINS   OF  SOCIETY          123 

— if  not,  on  Monday,  at  twelve  o'clock  exactly — " 

"Go!" 

Quivering  from  head  to  foot  Marion  Beau- 
mont stood  towering  and  erect,  magnificent  in 
her  misery.  The  sweeping  gesture  of  dismissal 
was  queen-like,  and  superb.  Indignation  and 
contempt  rang  in  her  clarion  command. 

"Go!" 

"Certainly,"  said  Ferrers,  rising  slowly.  "But 
I  shall  come  back — when  you  send  for  me — as 
you  must — for  you've  no  one  else  to  help  you — 
and  you  can't  help  yourself.  You  see,  I  bear 
no  malice,  and  I'm  not  at  all  proud.  I  can  wait. 
But  meantime — "  He  lit  a  fresh  cigarette  with 
insolent  deliberation — "as  a  real  friend,  and  a 
prospective  brother-in-law,  there  is  one  question 
I  should  like  to  ask  you,  and  which  I  beg 
of  you  ask  yourself — between  now  and  Mon- 
day at  twelve  o'clock,  what  are  you  going  to 
'dof 

Then  he  left  her,  laughing  softly  to  himself. 
He  had  shown  his  full  hand.  He  had  played 
his  last  card.  He  was  an  unmixed  scoundrel, 
and  she  knew  it.  He  had  won.  He  had  her  at 


i24         THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY 

his  mercy  and  there  was  no  escape.  Passing  the 
long  open  windows  of  the  drawing  room  he  heard 
Gwen's  voice. 

His  evil  eyes  burned  hungrily  and  he  laughed 
to  himself  again. 


DESPERATION ! 

MARION  BEAUMONT  excused  herself 
from  dinner  and  sat  alone  in  her  room 
as  the  last  clinging  twilight  of  the  long  summer 
evening  faded  from  the  sky. 

From  her  window  she  could  see  a  few  stray 
yellow  lamps  flickering  here  and  there  amongst 
the  dense  black  foliage  of  the  trees,  between  which 
the  river  wound  like  a  broad  ribbon  of  dead  silver. 
Dim  stars  grew  out  of  the  purple  haze  above  her 
.  .  .  somewhere  a  mellow  bell  clanged  musi- 
cally ...  a  chippering  bat  flittered  round  the 
eaves  .  .  .  the  heavy  scent  of  flowers  rose  from 
the  dew  drenched  garden.  .  .  . 

She  saw  nothing.  She  heard  nothing  .  .  . 
saving  the  echo  of  Noel  Ferrers'  voice.  .  .  . 
"What  are  you  going  to  do?" 


126          THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY] 

What,  indeed! 

The  revelation  of  the  man's  villainy  had 
stunned  her.  She  recalled  now  the  whispers  at 
Longchamps  after  the  Grand  Prix.  The  Dragon 
was  pulled  surely  enough  .  .  .  but  who  gave  the 
jockey  orders?  Had  Ferrers  lost  a  fortune?  Not 
a  farthing !  Well  ?  And  this  man,  pitiless,  delib- 
erate, diabolic  in  his  ruthlessness  and  cunning, 
knew  that  she  was  a  Criminal  ...  on  Monday 
the  wide  world  would  know,  unless  .  .  . 

His  hand  could  save,  or  strike  .  .  .  Was 
there  no  escape  .  .  .  could  she  do  nothing? 
Nothing?  .  .  . 

She  rose  with  no  definite  purpose,  and  hur- 
riedly wrapped  round  her  shoulders  a  long  dark 
cloak  .  .  .  nervously  she  turned  over  the  trinkets 
in  her  jewel  case  .  .  .  her  hand  fell  on  the  Blue 
Scarab  brooch  .  .  .  the  talisman  that  brought 
Luck  .  .  .  I  ! 

All  this  time  she  had  kept  it  for  Luck  .  .  . 
kept?  .  .  .  was  that  why  the  spell  had  not 
worked  properly  .  .  .  should  she  have  worn 
it  ...  she  pinned  her  cloak  with  it  ...  hid 
her  face  in  a  long  lace  scarf  .  .  .  black  as  a 


THE  SINS   OF   SOCIETY          127 

mask  .  .  .  and  stole  quietly  out  into  the  dark- 
ness. .  .  . 

Over  the  chalk  dust  of  the  long  white  road 
she  moved  silently,  swiftly,  like  a  shadow  .  .  . 
down  towards  the  river  .  .  .  for  what  .  .  .? 

She  could  not  think  coherently  .  .  .  she  could 
not  tell  herself  where  she  was  going  ...  or 
why?  .  .  .  Terror  drove  her  .  .  .  that  was  all 
.  .  .  forward  .  .  .  away  from  the  stifling  walls 
of  her  room  .  .  .  and  memory  .  .  .  she  must 
go  ...  past  the  water  .  .  .  the  whispering  lap 
of  the  river  cooled  and  soothed  her  aching  brain 
.  .  .  past  the  demure  cottages  and  the  trim  little 
gardens  .  .  .  past  .  .  .  she  paused  unseen  in  the 
darkness  while  a  policeman  flashed  his  lantern 
on  a  gate  across  the  way  .  .  .  "River  Bank" 
.  .  .  rather  new  gold  lettering  on  crude  green 
paint  .  .  .  "River — "  .  .  .  Morris!  .  .  .  not 
a  dozen  yards  away,  her  fate  lay  locked  in  a 
flimsy  box  held  only  by  a  seal  .  .  .  opened 
'already  .  .  .  Great  God  I  What  if  it  were! 
.  .  .  what  if  the  man's  suspicions  had  got  the 
better  of  him  ...  if  her  manner  had  angered 
him  ...  if  he  had  not  waited  after  all  and 


128         THE   SINS   OF    SOCIETY 

.  .  .  she  must  know!  .  .  .  SHE  MUST  .  .  .  she 
saw  the  Policeman  lift  the  latch  and  enter  the 
garden  .  .  .  when  he  came  back  she  would  .  .  . 
what?  .  .  .  she  shrank  further  into  the  darkness, 
fought  with  her  fear  and  waited  ...  it  seemed 
an  eternity  .... 

She  heard  the  measured  deliberate  footfall 
pass  away  round  the  back  of  the  house  ...  a 
burglar  might  have  heard  it  half  a  mile  off !  .  .  . 
Morris  heard  it  too,  looked  up  from  his  pipe  and 
his  evening  paper,  as  the  bulls-eye  flashed  through 
the  open  French  window  of  his  comfortable  oak- 
lined  dining  room,  and  rising,  beckoned  the 
Policeman  in. 

Morris  never  wasted  time  upon  the  obvious. 
He  mixed  a  short  strong  whiskey  and  soda  for 
the  constable — and  a  long  weak  one  for  himself. 
Then  he  took  up  his  glass  and  said  "Good  Luck!" 

The  Policeman  took  off  his  helmet,  removed 
his  cuff  badge,  and  said  "Respecks." 

When  they  had  drunk,  Morris  handed  the 
Policeman  a  cigar,  and  the  regular  evening  ritual 
was  completed. 

Morris  knew  the  value  of  being  popular  with 


THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY          129 

the  Police.  Despite  the  temptation  of  its  reputed 
treasures,  the  Evil-Doer  held  aloof  from  "River 
Bank." 

But  of  late  the  Evil-Doer  had  been  busy  in  the 
vicinity,  and  that  was  what  Morris  meant  when 
he  said  to  the  Constable : 

"Any  news  this  evening,  Bates?" 

Bates  frowned  for  a  moment  like  a  Cabinet 
Minister  in  possession  of  a  disturbing  Interna- 
tional Secret.  Then  he  settled  himself  down  to 
a  disquisition  on  the  abnormal  artfulness  of 
thieves  in  general,  and  the  high  intelligence  of  the 
— Local  Police. 

They  had  been  faced  with  a  series  of  daring 
and  puzzling  crimes. 

In  the  height  of  Summer,  pleasure  seekers 
lead  careless  lives  upon  the  River.  They  paddled 
about  after  nightfall,  parties  from  one  Houseboat 
visiting  another — leaving  handsome  dressing 
cases,  silver  backed  toilet  things,  and  sometimes 
jewelry,  loosely  kicking  about  in  their  pretty  little 
cabins,  from  which  their  valuables  had  taken  to 
disappearing  in  a  most  inexplicable  manner. 

Servants  had  been  suspected  and  discharged. 


130         THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY 

Constables  had  patrolled  the  River  bank.  Rail- 
way stations  had  been  watched.  Suspicious 
Motor  cars  had  been  stopped  and  searched. 

But  the  river  robberies  still  went  on.  At 
length  the  Chief  Constable  solemnly  came  to  the 
conclusion  that  they  were  the  work  of  expert 
river  thieves — practically  Pirates  I 

Their  method  was  simple  and  obvious.  After 
dark  a  skiff  or  a  canoe  bumped  against  a  house- 
boat in  the  shadow.  A  voice  said,  "I  beg  par- 
don." If  there  was  no  reply  and  the  house  boat 
were  unguarded  or  its  guardian  asleep,  the  cabins 
were  swiftly  looted,  and  the  Pirates  slid  quietly 
away  down  stream. 

But  what  did  they  do  with  their  booty? 

That  was  the  problem. 

The  astute  Chief  Constable  hunted  in  vain 
through  empty  villas,  and  cottages  "To  Let." 
But  one  day  he  was  struck  by  a  happy  thought. 
Under  the  trees  of  a  small  eyot,  to  which  the  long 
Weir  stretches  outward  from  the  Lock,  an  old 
dilapidated  house  boat  had  been  anchored  for 
many  seasons.  It  had  been  left  there  to  rot,  out 
of  the  way  of  the  river  traffic,  so  near  to  the 


THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY          131 

falling  cascade  of  water  that  only  an  expert  boat 
man  could  approach  it  safely.  Mildewed,  water 
logged,  unoccupied,  it  was  immune  from  the 
casual  intruder. 

The  Chief  Constable  wondered  if  the  Pirates 
thought  so  ? 

He  investigated,  and  to  his  joy  discovered  the 
spoil  of  a  dozen  raids ! 

This  was  not  enough  however.  His  high  in- 
telligence prompted  the  Chief  Constable  to  a 
further  demonstration  of  his  great  ability.  He 
left  the  spoil  as  he  had  found  it — undisturbed. 
He  set  a  secret  watch  upon  the  boat.  And  every 
night  he  put  on  board  of  her  a  small  garrison  of 
well-armed  plain-clothes  men.  Sooner  or  later 
the  Pirates  would  return,  probably  with  more 
booty.  They  would  be  captured  red-handed ;  and 
the  glory,  and  the  promotion,  of  the  Chief  Con- 
stable  would  be  assured. 

Bates  finished  his  glass  with  a  long  impressive 
swig,  put  on  his  helmet,  replaced  his  cuff  badge, 
and  Morris,  who  had  listened  with  approving 
interest,  said,  "Very  good  indeed — excellent — very 
clever." 


i32          THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY 

"Yes,  Sir,"  Bates  replied  confidently.  "I  will 
say  we  do  our  dooty  down  'ere — not  like  the 
London  p'leece  we  are — you're  quite  safe,  Sir, 
while  we're  about,  I  give  you  my  word.  Quite 
safe." 

"I  am  sure  of  that,  Bates,"  said  Morris,  and 
for  an  instant  his  eye  wandered  to  the  drawer 
of  an  old  oak  cabinet,  wherein  lay  a  certain  white 
cardboard  Box — "and  I'm  very  glad  of  it.  See 
you  tomorrow  night,  I  suppose." 

"Thank  you,  sir,"  Bates  touched  his  helmet 
respectfully,  "and  good  night,  sir." 

"Good  night,  Bates." 

The  bulls-eye  flashed  on  the  gravel  path,  and 
the  heavy  measured  tread  died  away  .  .  .  the 
gate  clicked  .  .  .  Morris  refilled  his  pipe  and 
once  more  settled  down  to  read.  The  clock  ticked 
loudly  .  .  .  flies  hummed  .  .  .  the  night  was 
hot  and  close  ...  a  lump  of  ice  clinked  grate- 
fully in  the  long  tumbler  ...  an  electric  bell 
whirred  sharply,  but  he  took  no  notice  .  .  . 
urgent  excited  telegrams  late  at  night  were  not 
unusual  in  his  business.  .  .  . 

A   moment   later   the   door   opened.     "I   beg 


THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY          133 

pardon,  sir,"  said  Parker,  his  old  white-headed 
servant.  "There  is  a — er — female  person — sir — 
won't  give  'er  name  .  .  .  wishes  for  to  see  you 
— at  once,  sir.  .  .  ." 

Even  this  was  not  altogether  a  circumstance 
without  precedent. 

" A  lady?"  asked  Morris. 

"Perhaps,  sir,"  Parker  answered  stiffly,  for  it 
was  past  eleven,  and  he  was  something  of  a  purist. 

"Well,  we'll  see,"  Morris  smiled,  "show  her 
in." 

"Very  good,  sir,"  Parker  answered,  but  he  did 
not  look  as  if  he  meant  it. 

...  A  tall  figure  swept  into  the  room.  Morris 
stared  and  bowed.  The  door  closed  .  .  .  and 
the  heavy  lace  veil  fell.  .  .  . 

"Lady  Marion!"  Morris  started  back. 

She  did  not  move.  She  did  not  speak.  The 
great  dark  eyes  burned  with  a  strange  fire,  and 
gazed  at  him,  questioning  .  .  .  appealing  .  .  .? 

"Won't  you  be  seated?" 

She  sank  into  a  chair  near  the  table.  .  .  . 

Still  she  did  not — could  not — speak. 

She  could  not  read  his  face. 


134          THE  SINS  OF  SOCIETY 

Had  he  opened  the  fatal  Box? 

Did  he  know  .  .  .   ? 

At  last  she  steeled  herself  to  ask — hoarsely — 
and  with  dry  stiff  lips.  ''Could  I  see — that  is  the 
reason  for  my  calling — the — the  Box  .  .  .  I — I 
have  thought  a  great  deal  of  what  you  said  this 
— this  evening,  and  I  feel  that  after  all  I  ought 
to-" 

"Open  it?" 

"Assure  myself  it  has  not  been  tampered  with." 

Her  voice  sounded  a  long  way  off  ...  the 
figure  of  Morris  looked  vague  and  uncertain 
.  .  .  like  a  shape  in  a  dream  ...  he  turned  and 
took  the  Box  out  of  the  Cabinet  .  .  .  placed  it 
on  the  table  under  the  lamp  .  .  .  safe,  tied, 
sealed  .  .  .  Unopened. 

There  was  no  dream  after  that,  the  blood 
rushed  back  to  her  face  and  tingled  in  her  ears, 
everything  was  vividly,  vitally,  raw,  red,  real  .  .  . 
every  look,  every  word  meant  danger  .  .  .  she 
took  up  the  Box  with  trembling  hands,  tried  the 
string  and  examined  the  seals  carefully. 

Then  with  the  particularly  gracious  and  ingra- 
tiating smile  that  people  of  her  class  find  so  useful 


THE  SINS  OF  SOCIETY  135 

upon  occasion,  she  gave  a  deep  sigh  of  relief, 
and  handing  back  the  Box,  said : 

"I  am  quite  satisfied,  Mr.  Morris." 

"Really,  my  lady?    Well— I  am  not." 

"Not — !  when  I  tell  you  that  I  am  perfectly 
certain — " 

"Yet  I  am  so  foolish  as  still  to  be  doubtful. 
I  invite  your  ladyship — I  beg  your  ladyship — to 
confound  me,  and  convince  me." 

He  took  a  pen  knife  from  his  pocket. 

*  .  .  .  Open  the  Box,  now." 

"If  I  am  wrong — if  you  have  been  robbed — 
I  will  bear  the  loss.  I  shall  open  the  Box  when 
I  choose  after  the  money  is  paid." 

"I  shall  open  it  on  Monday  if  the  money  is 
«of  paid." 

"You  have  not  the  right—!" 

"Your  ladyship's  lawyers  will  advise  you." 

"Mr.  Morris — "  She  was  desperate  now.  rAn 
appeal  was  her  only  hope.  "Give  me  a  few  days' 
grace — in  a  week — " 

"In  a  week,  or  a  month,  your  ladyship  will 
only  be  deeper  in  debt  than  you  are  to-day.  Lady 
Marion,"  he  tapped  the  Box  with  his  pen  knife, 


136          THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY 

udo  you  think  that  I  don't  understand  the  mean- 
ing of  this  visit?  You  know  that  my  reputation 
— the  repute  of  my  business  depends  on  this  Box 
being  opened — your  reputation  depends  upon  it 
remaining  closed." 

"Mr.  Morris-" 

"Go  to  your  friends — raise  the  money — find  the 
money — the  more  desperate  your  need  the  more 
certainly  will  you  do  so.  That's  business.  I  have 
dealt  with  cases  like  this  before.  That's  why  I 
will  not  give  you  an  hour's  grace.  A  day  is 
really  too  much — for  you  are  in  grave  danger, 
my  lady — " 

"Mr.  Morris,  have  you  no — no — Mercy!" 

"None  for  fraud — none  for  Felony." 

"Sir— !" 

"Felony.  I  repeat.  That  was  the  word  I  used. 
And  it  is  the  only  one.  It  is  the  word  that  the 
World  will  use,  that  the  Court  will  hear,  that  the 
Judge  will  speak  when  he  condemns — " 

With  a  cry  of  anguish  Marion  Beaumont 
reeled  back  half  fainting  into  a  chair  .  .  .  and  as 
she  did  her  hand  fell  lightly  on  the  phial  of 
Morphia  which,  when  Ferrers  gave  it  to  her,  she 


THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY          137 

had  thrust  into  the  bosom  of  her  dress.  .  .  . 

Morphia  .  .  .  ? 

Morris,  almost  regretting  the  sternness  of  his 
words,  sprang  to  her  side. 

"You  are  faint,  my  lady — a  glass  of  water — " 

Morphia  .  .  .  / 

There  was  one  escape  at  least  from  the  open 
disgrace  of  conviction — gaol — one  certain  escape, 
now,  this  instant,  if  she  were  left  for  a  minute 
alone.  .  .  . 

Her  eye  caught  the  tray  of  glass,  the  spirit 
decanters.  .  .  . 

What  excuse  .  .  .  ? 

"Thank  you,"  she  said  faintly.  "If — if  I  might 
have  a  glass  of — of  wine." 

She  guessed  that  there  was  none  in  the  room. 

"Certainly — at  once." 

Morris  hurried  away.  As  the  door  slammed 
she  stood  up  desperately  with  the  Morphia 
phial  in  her  hand,  and  looked  round  for  a 
glass. 

On  the  table  close  to  her  hand  there  stood  two 
glasses — one  empty  from  which  Bates  had  drunk, 
and  the  other  half  filled  from  which  Morris  had 


138         THE  SINS  OF  SOCIETY 

been  drinking  and  from  which  he  would  drink 
again.  .  .  . 

Again  .  .  .  ? 

Just  beyond  the  glass  lay  the  Box. 

The  long  French  window  leading  on  to  the 
Lawn  was  open.  If  she  snatched  up  the  Box  and 
made  one  desperate  rush.  .  .  .  No.  That  would 
incriminate,  condemn,  her  eternally.  But  .  .  . 

What  had  Morris  called  her?  .  .  .  Felon. 
And  the  world  would  say  it,  and  the  Judge,  when 
she  stood  in  the  Dock  .  .  .  awaiting  gaol. 
Better  the  Morphia  a  thousand  times.  Death! 
Though  Death  was  very  terrible  .  .  .  horrible 
.  .  .  again  she  looked  at  the  Box,  and  ...  at 
the  glass  .  .  .  the  half  filled  'glass  .  .  .  from 
which  Morris  would  drink  .  .  .  again  .  .  . 
when  she  was  gone.  If  he  would  only  sleep  .  .  . 
if  she  could  only  come  back,  when  he  slept, 
unseen,  .  .  . 

Suddenly  the  whole  thing  formed  itself  in  her 
brain — a  wild  plan,  a  fierce  temptation — and  on 
it  she  acted  without  a  pause — the  Morphia  was 
in  her  hands,  Morphia,  colorless  and  tasteless — 
she  knew  the  dose  only  too  well — the  door  that 


THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY          139 

meant  absolute  insensibility,  and  sure  .  .  .  she 
snatched  up  the  half  filled  glass,  counted  the  drops 
as  they  fell,  and  put  the  glass  back  exactly  in  its 
place  where  Morris  would  find  it — and  drink 
again!  Then  .  .  .  ! 

She  heard  a  door  close,  and  Morris  found  her 
lying  back  in  the  chair  and  breathing  heavily 
when  he  returned. 

She  drank  the  wine  that  he  brought  and 
presently  recovered  some  composure. 

"If  I  spoke  sternly,"  he  ventured. 

"You  were  quite  right,"  she  interrupted.  "Des- 
perate ills  need  desperate  remedies.  I  know  what 
I  have  to  do  ...  and  I  must  do  it.  Will  you 
ring  for  your  man,  please  ?" 

"You  won't  rest  a  little  longer — " 

"No,  thank  you.  The  walk  home  in  the  fresK 
air  will  do  me  good." 

Parker  gravely  bowed  her  out,  and  they  heard 
the  garden  gate  click  loudly  .  .  .  but  Marion 
Beaumont  remained  on  the  inner  side,  shrinking 
into  the  shadow,  and  creeping  silently  back  over 
the  soft  grass  to  a  spot  where  she  had  a  full  view 
of  the  long  window  opening  on  to  the  room  that 


i4o          THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY 

she  had  left  .  .  .  she  saw  Morris  standing  by 
the  table  with  the  Box  in  his  hands  ...  he 
seemed  to  be  judging  its  weight  ...  he  shook 
his  head,  then  turning,  locked  the  Box  up  in  the 
Cabinet  ...  he  put  the  key  into  his  vest  pocket 
.  .  .  then  he  filled  his  pipe  and  settled  down  to 
read  .  .  .  without  looking  round  he  stretched  out 
his  hand  for  the  tumbler  .  .  .  and  drank. 

.  .  .  The  blue  tobacco  smoke  rose  in  heavy  coils 
.  .  .  the  old  man  servant  entered  the  room,  and 
crossing  to  the  window  closed  it  ...  she  had 
never  thought  of  that  ...  if  he  barred  the  shut- 
ters too  there  would  be  no  chance  of  ...  he 
paused,  Morris  was  speaking  .  .  .  Parker 
opened  the  window  again  ...  it  was  a  close 
sultry  night  .  .  .  now  Morris  was  alone  .  .  . 
lights  went  out  about  the  house  .  .  .  and  then  a 
window  upstairs  glowed  .  .  .  Morris  read  on 
.  .  .  Marion  stood  motionless  like  a  graven 
statue  ...  a  field  mouse  scuttered  across  the 
dew  at  her  feet  and  plunged  rustling  into  the  ever- 
green undergrowth  ...  a  stag-beetle  boomed 
majestically  round  the  standard  roses  ...  a 
limpid,  lustrous  planet  swung  up  over  the  black 


THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY          141 

tree  tops  .  .  .  Morris  took  the  tumbler  and  at  a 
draught  emptied  it.  ...  How  long — ?  .  .  . 
the  book  dropped  from  his  hand,  fell  with  a  dull 
thud  on  the  floor,  and  he  pulled  himself  up  with 
a  jerk,  rubbing  his  eyes  ...  he  rose,  with  some 
difficulty,  and  stood  swaying  and  irresolute  .  .  . 
he  wiped  his  forehead  and  walked  unsteadily 
towards  the  window,  pulling  it  wide  open  .  .  . 
he  seemed  to  gasp  for  air  ...  then  staggered 
back  .  .  .  groped  blindly  for  the  table  .  .  .  and 
fell  forward  .  .  .  darkness? 

.  .  .  The  faint  crash  of  glass  struck  her  ear 
.  .  .  the  electric  lamp  had  fallen  .  .  .  would  the 
noise  alarm  the  house?  .  .  .  there  was  no  time 
to  hesitate  .  .  .  she  darted  across  the  tiny  lawn, 
and  crept  into  the  silent  room  .  .  .  held  her 
skirts  tightly  round  her,  picking  her  way  silently 
.  .  .  till  she  knelt  by  the  fallen  insensible  man. 

.  .  .  The  key  ...  it  was  soon  found  .  .  . 
the  Cabinet  .  .  .  trembling  she  fumbled  for  the 
lock  .  .  .  creak!  .  .  .  surely  the  whole  world 
would  hear  it  turn  .  .  .  one  snatch  .  .  .  the  Box 
was  in  her  arms  hidden  under  her  cloak.  .  ,  . 


i42         THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY 

There  was  a  loud  rapping  at  the  door  and  a 
voice  called  "Master?"  .  .  . 

.  .  .  With  the  veil  tightened  over  her  face 
Marion  flew,  as  a  Black  Ghost  flies  at  dawn  .  .  . 
she  was  barely  on  the  gravel  when  she  heard  the 
door  open  and  the  voice  calling  again  ...  a 
switch  clicked  and  the  room  was  flooded  with  a 
light  ...  a  loud  cry  followed  .  .  .  and  as  she 
reached  the  gate,  and  plunged  into  the  shadows 
of  the  road,  chains  rattled,  bolts  were  drawn,  and 
a  long  piercing  whistle  blew  the  alarm!  .  .  . 

.  .  .  Not  fifty  yards  away  someone  ran  past 
her  in  the  darkness  .  .  .  other  whistles  blew 
.  .  .  she  raced  on  ...  with  no  plan  in  her  mind 
...  no  exact  object  .  .  .  only  .  .  something 
drew  her  to  the  river  .  .  .  she  wanted  to  keep 
the  Box  till  she  could  destroy  it  ...  but  at  the 
worst  the  river  would  hold  her  secret  for  a  little 
while  .  .  .  the  next  turn  would  bring  her  to  the 
towing  path  .  .  .  did  she  hear  voices?  .  .  .  men 
running?  .  .  .  men  shouting?  .  .  .  more  whis- 
tles .  .  .  long  strident  notes  screaming  accusa- 
tion through  the  night  .  .  .  would  she  be  caught 
.  .  .  taken  .  .  .  now  doubly  a  criminal  .  .  . 


THE  SINS  OF   SOCIETY          143 

maddened  .  .  .  dishevelled  .  .  .  breathless 
.  .  .  she  stumbled  recklessly  across  a  patch  of 
moonlight,  and  almost  into  the  arms  of  ... 
Dorian  March ! 

"Marion!" 

He  had  no  need  to  question — her  face  told  him 
enough.  Some  terrible  climax  had  attended  the 
mysterious  miseries  of  the  past  ten  days — what  it 
was  did  not  matter. 

"Save  me,"  she  gasped.  "If  I  am  caught— 
taken—" 

"Great  Heaven — for  what?" 

"Don't  ask!  I  was  mad — mad,  I  tell  you — • 
but  if  they  find  this — take  it — save  me — for 
Gwen's  sake.'' 

"For  Gwen — "  He  snatched  the  Box  from  her 
hands. 

"Keep  it,  I  entreat — safe — somehow — bring  it 
me  unseen — Dorian — it  holds  my  honor?" 

"And  yours  is  Gwen's — Marion  for  Heaven's 
sake — keep  calm — don't  hide  your  face,  walk 
slowly,  no  one  will  suspect  you — Lady  Marion 
Beaumont — " 

"But    o«— " 


i44          THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY 

"I'll  save  you  if  I  die  for  it!    Go." 

She  was  no  longer  a  fugitive. 

The  tall,  dark,  stately  figure  moved  slowly 
through  the  pale  moonlight  over  the  white  dusty 
road,  a  hurrying  policeman  running  past  barely 
glanced  at  her  and  rushed  on. 

She  was  safe  .  .  .  ! 

And  Dorian  March,  bundling  James  Hogg  into 
his  punt,  pushed  out  into  the  stream. 

For  Dorian  coming  home  from  dinner  with 
a  friend  to  his  regimental  quarters  in  the  Castle 
barracks  had  met  Hogg  starting  out  to  his 
nocturnal  exercises,  and  had  good-naturedly 
helped  him  to  unmoor  his  punt — and  indeed  to  get 
into  it — when  the  Police  whistles  startled  them, 
and  the  flying  woman  had  rushed  into  his  arms. 

Such  are  the  ways  of  Fate  .  .  . 

If  Lady  Goldbury  had  not  expressed  her 
admiration  of  athletics,  Hogg  would  not  have 
been  trying  to  please  by  learning  modestly  to  punt 
at  night,  and  there  would  have  been  no  friendly 
craft  at  hand  in  which  Dorian  could  escape  from 
the  pursuers,  when  Marion  thrust  the  Box  into 
his  keeping 


THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY          145 

Even  as  it  was,  loud  voices  ordered  him  to 
"Come  back !"  as,  with  a  couple  of  vigorous  drives 
he  sent  the  punt  out  into  the  river. 

"Lie  still!"  he  hissed  at  Hogg,  who  lay 
sprawling  in  the  stern. 

"All  right,"  gasped  the  little  man,  "but  what 
the  deuce  is  up  1" 

"Don't  know  and  I  don't  care,"  snapped 
Dorian,  as  he  drove  the  punt  swiftly  up  stream. 
"But  a  woman's  honor  is  at  stake  .  .  .  and  I  am 
going  to  save  it — if  I  can.  Will — will  you  help 
me?" 

"Help?"  The  sporting  spirit  rose  up  in  James 
Hogg  and  swept  aside  precaution.  "What  do 
you  think!" 

"Then  grab  that  Box  and  don't  wobble — " 

Here  and  there  on  the  Towing  Path  a  lantern 
flashed,  and  long  warning  whistles  echoed  from 
bank  to  bank.  To  chance  a  landing  anywhere 
in  the  midst  of  such  a  commotion  would  be  mad- 
ness. But  Dorian  did  not  wear  the  South  African 
medal  for  nothing.  The  art  of  scouting  had 
been  rubbed  into  him  by  bitter  experience  and 
the  most  wily  of  Boer  Commandants,  which  was 


I46         THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY, 

why  he  started  up  stream,  along  a  reach  of  the 
river  that  he  knew  backwards.  Passing  a  big 
bed  of  osiers  he  drew  into  the  bank — then  stopped 
dead  in  the  shadow  and  shot  the  punt  back 
through  a  long  canal-like  alley  amongst  the 
rushes. 

"Keep  very  quiet,  and  don't  move,"  he  cau- 
tioned as  he  pulled  in  the  punt  pole,  and  crouched 
'down  beside  Hogg. 

Slowly  they  drifted,  till  the  strong  current  bore 
them,  a  mere  streak  on  the  dark  water  out  into 
mid  stream,  and  rapidly  down  river  as  the  shouts 
and  whistles  of  their  pursuers  died  away  behind 
them. 

Dorian  did  not  stir. 

"Listen,"  he  whispered  to  Hogg.  "If  we  get 
down  to  the  Weir  we  shall  be  all  right.  The 
reach  widens,  and  if  we  don't  like  risking  the 
Towing  Path  there  are  meadows  on  the  other 
side,  where  I  can  make  a  clean  run  for  it — they'd 
be  too  pumped  to  catch  me  if  they  do  see  and 
follow  us,  for  we  are  going  a  fair  pace — the 
river  here  runs  all  six  knots.  .  .  ." 

Hogg  nodded. 


THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY          147 

"You  will  go  back  with  the  Punt,  and  swear 
you've  never  seen  me.  .  .  ." 

"Right.  But,  Sir  Dorian,  where  will  you  go 
then?" 

"Walk  till  daylight,  then  catch  the  earliest  train 
anywhere  back  to  Windsor,  and  drive  openly  into 
barracks  as  if  I'd  been  to  town  for  the  night." 

"Sounds   all  serene  if — was  that   a  whistle!" 

They  listened. 

"No  ...  do  you  hear  now — that's  the  Weir 
.  .  .  you  see  how  the  bend  widens.  .  .  ." 

Dorian  rose  and  quietly  resumed  punting.  He 
kept  their  little  craft  as  far  from  the  Towing 
Path  side  of  the  stream  as  possible — edging  under 
trees  and  through  osier  beds,  till  presently  the 
last  broad  reach  lay  before  them,  a  sheet  of 
rippling  silver  in  the  moonlight.  They  saw  the 
low  masonry  of  the  Lock,  and  the  Keeper's  snug 
squat  Cottage,  they  saw  a  ghostly  tracery  of  the 
Pallisade  along  the  Weir  edge — and  the  gap  at 
the  end  where  the  stream  ran  strongest  and 
plunged  a  dozen  feet  sheer  into  the  seething  back 
water  under  the  flank  of  the  Eyot  .  .  .  Here  a 
low  sparkling  cloud  of  spray  rose  through  the 


148          THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY 

light  river  mist  and  the  swishing  roar  of  the 
water  sounded  deliciously  cool  and  refreshing  on 
the  close  air  of  the  hot  night.  .  .  . 

"Steady  .  .  ."  Hogg  whispered.  His  quick 
eye  caught  two  figures  flitting  dimly  and  swiftly 
along  the  path  .  .  .  men  on  cycles!  .  .  .  police? 
...  a  light  shone  in  the  Cottage  ...  a  whistle 
.  .  .  was  it  a  whistle  .  .  .  another  .  .  . 

"We're  done,"  he  said,  "you — you  can't  beat 
'em  going  back  up  stream — " 

"I  know,"  said  Dorian.  "But  they  can't  cross 
the  stream,  and  there's  no  road  within  a  mile  of 
our  side — I  must  try  the  Meadows  and  chance  it 
— it's  bad  landing — and  I  don't  want  to  get 
covered  with  mud — it  would  look  suspicious — but 
there's  a  small  hand  bridge  from  the  Eyot — thank 
goodness  it's  in  shadow.  .  .  ." 

Softly,  and  they  hoped  unseen,  they  drifted 
on  ...  there  was  silence  now  .  .  .  perhaps 
they  had  been  mistaken  after  all  ...  they 
crouched  low  as  the  stream  swept  them  out  across 
an  open  stretch  of  moonlight  .  .  .  still  there  was 
no  sound  .  .  . 

"Take  the  pole,"   commanded  Dorian;   "you 


THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY          149 

can  punt  enough  for  this — just  keep  her  close  in 
— easy  does  it — that's  right — steady  now — just 
there — against  that  old  Houseboat — I  know  it's 
empty — I  can  land  there  capitally — " 

Very  gloomy  and  dilapidated,  the  old  House- 
boat looked,  mouldy,  rotting,  deserted  in  the 
darkness,  sagging  sideways  to  its  mooring  wharf, 
staring  with  blank  windows  like  empty  sockets  at 
the  river  .  .  .  they  slid  greasily  along  its  slimy 
side,  Hogg  grasped  a  stanchion  and  Dorian 
stepped  lightly  on  board.  .  .  . 

"Quick,"  he  said. 

Hogg  passed  the  Box  to  him  and — 

"Stop  that"  shouted  a  stern  voice,  while  half 
a  dozen  strong  hands  pinned  Dorian  from  behind. 

Into  the  very  jaws  of  the  Chief  Constable's 
trap,  he  had  fallen ! 

Somebody  grabbed  at  Hogg,  but  the  punt 
bumped  and  drifted  a  yard  out  of  reach  .  .  . 
Dorian  fought  like  a  desperate  tiger,  .  .  .  for  an 
instant  he  fell  with  his  captors  in  a  heap  .  .  .  for 
an  instant  he  shook  himself  free.  .  .  . 

"Save  .  .  ."  he  called  wildly,  as  he  flung  the 
Box  out  over  the  water  and  saw  it  fall  safely  into 
the  Punt  ...  a  startled  voice  shouted,  "Sir 


150         THE  SINS  OF  SOCIETY 

Dorian  March  !  !..."...  and  Dorian  half 
stumbling,  slid  over  the  side  and  struck  out  boldly 
across  the  river. 

Fear  lent  Hogg  the  strength  and  courage  to 
drive  the  punt  for  a  little  way  back  along  the 
course  by  which  they  came,  and  he  found 
sanctuary  among  the  osiers,  while  the  Police,  who 
had  not  seen  his  face,  were  all  intent  on  the  fugi- 
tive under  their  eyes — the  fugitive  they  had 
recognized — a  capture  that  would  be  a  capture 
indeed  1 

Dorian  fought  with  the  stream  for  freedom 
.  .  .  and  felt  that  the  stream  was  too  strong  1 

But  he  had  crossed  the  open  gap  and  was  close 
to  the  Pallisade  ...  if  he  could  scramble  up  he 
could  reach  the  Lock  and  might  at  least  make  a 
run  or  a  fight  for  it  ...  a  nail  gave  foothold 
here  ...  a  bolt  there  .  .  .  slowly  he  dragged 
himself  from  the  river  and  climbed  to  the  narrow 
footway  ten  feet  above  the  Fall. 

The  Police  on  the  Houseboat  were  shouting 
and  whistling  alarm  .  .  .  Dorian  paused  to  take 
breath  and  shake  the  water  from  his  clothes,  then 
.  .  .  from  the  Lock  two  Constables  were  cau- 
tiously coming  out  along  the  Pallisade  towards 


THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY          151 

him.  .  .  one  held  a  revolver  and  shouted  some- 
thing he  could  not  hear  .  .  .  another  Constable 
on  the  Houseboat  flourished  a  revolver  also  .  .  . 
he  was  caught  on  either  hand  .  .  .  the  stream 
above  was  too  strong  .  .  .  the  Weir  roared 
thundering  twenty  feet  below  .  .  .  but  Dorian 
March  had  faced  death  on  the  battlefield  and  he 
would  face  it  again  sooner  than  face  dishonor 
,  .  .  once  more  he  heard  the  men  shouting  his 
name  .  .  .  that  settled  it!  ...  Lifting  his 
hands  high  above  his  head  he  poised  for  an 
instant,  then  with  one  clean  strong  spring  he  dived 
sheer  down  the  face  of  the  cataract  and  plunged 
into  the  seething  caldron  below ! 

...  A  revolver  cracked  amidst  wild  cries  of 
anger  and  astonishment,  just  as  a  merciful  cloud 
darkened  the  Moon  .  .  .  when  it  passed  the  men 
peered  in  vain  into  the  deadly  swirl  of  foaming 
angry  water.  .  .  . 

.  .  .  Dead,  or  Alive,  Dorian  March  had 
vanished. 


CHAPTER  VI 

FOR  THE  SIN  OF  ANOTHER 

WHEN  morning  broke,  radiant  and  glorious, 
it  aroused  Marion  Beaumont  slowly  from 
the  blank  dreamless  stupefaction  of  deep  morphia 
laden  sleep. 

For  a  little  while  she  stared  aimlessly  around 
her,  remembering  nothing — then,  suddenly,  she 
remembered  all! 

She  sat  up  with  a  start.  Her  head  swam,  and 
her  lips  were  dry. 

Every  incident  of  the  past  night  came  back 
to  her  dazed  brain  with  the  ghoulish  vividness 
of  faces  seen  by  a  lightning  flash. 

She  saw  Morris  at  her  feet,  she  heard  the 
tapping  at  the  door,  she  heard  Dorian's  fearless 
voice  .  .  .  what  had  become  of  Dorian? 


153 

...  At  the  earliest  compatible  hour  she  rang 
through  to  the  Officers'  Quarters  in  the  Castle. 
"He  was  not  there." 

.  .  .  Was  he  already  on  his  way  to  her? 
"Was  he  on  duty?"  "No."  "Had  he  gone 
out  early,"  she  asked.  A  dry  voice  merely  re- 
peated that  "he  was  not  there."  She  dared  ask 
no  more.  But  she  listened  eagerly  when  Gwen, 
keen  for  a  day  on  the  River,  rang  up  later  on. 
The  result  was  the  same. 

Morris? 

She  tried  hard  to  convince  herself  that  he 
could  suspect  nothing.  She  had  called  on 
him,  certainly,  but  he  had  bowed  her  out  of  his 
room  himself,  and  his  servant  had  seen  her  to 
the  door.  There  was  no  circumstance  connected 
with  her  visit  which  could  possibly  suggest  a 
criminal  intent — much  less  an  actual  crime. 

It  all  occurred  after  she  left,  and  might  as 
reasonably  have  occurred  had  she  never  paid  her 
visit  at  all. 

The  presence  of  daring,  and  ingenious,  thieves 
in  the  vicinity  was  notorious.  An  attempt  on 
the  house  of  a  wealthy  jeweller  was  only  to  be 


154         THE  SINS  OF  SOCIETY, 

expected.  Inevitably  she  would  be  questioned 
concerning  the  value  of  their  plunder.  But  that 
was  the  worst.  She  had  only  to  stick  to  her  guns 
and  swear  to  the  contents  of  the  Box.  No  one 
could  contradict  her — now! 

She  was  safe! 

If  only  she  were  sure  that  Dorian  .  .  .  ? 
By  noon  she  had  worked  herself  into  a  fever. 
Where  was  he?  What  was  he  waiting  for? 
Suppose  he  learned  that  Morris  had  been  robbed, 
what  would  he  do?  Dorian  was  the  soul  of 
honor  and  even  for  the  sake  of  Gwen  would  he 
let  himself  become  the  innocent  accomplice  in  a 
definite  crime  ?  She  wanted  the  Box  in  her  hands 
— to  burn  it — destroy  it! 

They  could  say  what  they  liked  after  that. 

She  would  deny  everything. 

They  could  prove  nothing! 

Gwen  came  in  after  Church,  saying  that  she 
had  stayed  to  hear  the  Guards  Band  play,  in 
accordance  with  immemorial  custom,  on  the 
Castle  Terrace  afterwards.  But  she  had  not 
seen  Dorian.  She  had  asked  "Billy"  Thesiger 
where  he  was  and  Billy  had  said  rather  shortly 


THE  SINS  OF  SOCIETY         155 

that  he  did  not  know.     She  thought  "Billy's" 
manner  rather  curious. 

Did  Marion  think  this,  and  did  Marion  thinlc 
that? 

Her  wholly  unintentional  and  ingenuous  cross- 
questioning  was  maddening! 

Marion  answered  so  sharply  that  Gwen  cried. 

When  the  light  breeze  rustled  the  evergreens 
she  started,  when  the  gate  clicked  she  almost 
screamed,  the  glare  from  the  river  was  intoler- 
able, the  heat  was  stifling,  the  quietude  and 
silence  of  the  whole  place  a  tense  torture,  she 
longed  to  hide  herself,  to  find  refuge  in  a  whirl- 
pool of  roar  and  rattle.  .  .  . 

By  a  midday  train  she  went  back  to  her 
London  house,  and  a  little  later  Sir  Benjamin 
Harley  sat  by  her  side  and  shook  his  head.  The 
great  doctor  saw  at  a  glance  that  this  was  &. 
case  beyond  his  skill.  His  fashionable  practice 
brought  him  into  contact  with  many  such"  cases. 
He  was  able  to  help  sometimes  when  they  told 
him  the  truth.  But  not  if  they  didn't. 
,  Marion  didn't. 

His  age  and  position  justified  plain  speaking, 


156          THE  SINS  OF   SOCIETY 

however,  if  he  were  sufficiently  interested  to 
resort  to  it.  In  this  case  he  did.  He  warned, 
rather  seriously.  "My  dear  child,"  he  said, 
for  he  had  known  Marion  for  many  years,  "if 
you  don't  pull  up,  you'll  break  up.  And  that 
would  not  be  clever,  would  it?  Go  steady  for 
a  bit — you  know — play  Golf  instead  of  Bridge 
— it's  just  as  fashionable,  and  a  much  healthier 
craze — give  up  cutting  for  partners  and  take  to 
cutting  the  turf — it  will  annoy  the  Caddie,  but 
it's  much  cheaper.  Six  hours  a  day  in  a  stuffy 
room,  smoking  cigarettes,  forgetting  hearts  while 
you  stare  at  knaves  and  wish  for  diamonds — 
what's  the  matter?" 

The  mere  word  "diamonds"  was  enough! 
Sir  Benjamin  noticed  it  and  raised  his  eyebrows. 
He  had  seen  similar  symptoms.  Eventually,  he 
concluded  the  Family  Lawyer  would  prove  the 
best  physician.  That's  what  it  generally  came  to. 
So  he  talked  soothingly  of  diet  and  sedatives, 
and  drove  away  in  his  speckless,  faultless  brough- 
am, mentally  noting  the  case  as  one  of  "Financial 
Nerves." 

The  night  came   with   no  news  of   Dorian. 


THE  SINS   OF   SOCIEXY          157 

Gwen  wrote  a  long  letter  and  cried  herself  to 
sleep.  .  .  .  Marion,  rummaging  through  her 
jewel  case  for  the  Morphia  needle,  noticed  for 
the  first  time  that  the  Blue  Scarab  brooch  was 
missing.  .  .  . 

She   recalled  distinctly  wearing  it  the  night 
before. 

She  had  pinned  her  cloak  with  it. 

It  must  have  fallen  unnoticed.  .  .  . 
.  Where  .         ? 


She  was  destined  to  learn  the  truth  under 
curious  circumstances,  at  a  curious  time  and 
place. 

When  she  came  down  in  the  morning,  rather 
earlier  than  usual,  she  found  Gwen  up  and 
dressing — tearful,  wrathful,  and  resentful,  for 
still  there  was  no  word  or  sign  from  Dorian 
March. 

Marion  bit  her  lip  in  anxiety  and  turned  away, 
when  she  heard,  and  Gwen  did  not  see  because 
she  was  really  very  angry  indeed. 

At  an  early  hour  she  had  telephoned  to  the 


i $8          THE  SINS  OF  SOCIETY 

Cottage  at  Windsor  and  had  learned  that  Sir 
Dorian  had  not  called. 

They  had  said  good-bye  on  Saturday  night, 
and  here  was  Monday  morning  without  a  word! 

Her  conversation  became  monosyllabic,  and 
she  evinced  an  inclination  to  slam  cupboards  and 
doors.  At  length  she  banged  on  her  hat — becom- 
ingly— and  said,  "Aren't  you  coming?" 

"Where — ?"  Marion  asked  vaguely. 

"To  the  Duchess's,"  snapped  Gwen.  "You 
know  we're  asked." 

Then  she  flounced  downstairs  and  sniffed  her- 
self haughtily  into  the  street. 

"To  the  Duchess's — "  O  yes.  Marion  did 
remember  at  last.  The  Duchess  of  Danebury 
had  bidden  a  carefully  selected  number  of  her 
acquaintances  to  an  unusual  function. 

Like  many  of  the  spare  and  sallow  women  to 
whom  Nature  has  denied  the  possibilities  of 
maternity,  she  lavished  a  wealth  of  perverted  af- 
fection on  domestic  pets. 

She  would  have  shrunk  from  the  contami- 
nating touch  of  a  poor  man's  child,  playing  in 
the  Park.  But  she  kissed  the  stertorous  slobber- 


THE  SINS  OF  SOCIETY,         159; 

ing  pugs  that  sat  beside  her  in  her  carriage. 

There  are  others  like  her. 

For  their  edification  and  that  of  their 
pampered  animals  she  elected  to  give  a  Dogs' 
Dejeuner  at  Danebury  House,  Park  Lane,  it 
being  understood  that  the  dogs  were  the  guests, 
and  that  their  respective  owners  would  come  to 
wait  on  them. 

Gwen  was  among  the  first  to  arrive,  and  she 
found  the  Duchess,  in  a  large  room  opening  on  to 
the  Conservatory,  superintending  the  final  ar- 
rangements. High,  satin  cushioned  chairs,  were 
placed  close  around  a  long  flower  decked  table, 
laid  out  with  bowls  of  Devonshire  cream,  Pate 
de  fois  gras,  carefully  flavored  soup  and  minced 
chicken. 

The  Dogs  of  Society  have  delicate  appetites. 
Their  Wardrobes  also,  if  scanty,  are  expensive. 
These,  as  they  began  to  arrive,  were  closely 
scanned  by  critical  and  envious  eyes.  A  Black 
Poodle  made  rather  a  sensation,  by  aid  of  two 
diamond  bangles  unusually  placed  on  his  left 
hind  leg.  A  shivering  goblin-eyed,  hairless 
Japanese  Terrier,  ran  him  close  by  appearing 


160          THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY 

in  white  doe-skin  boots  and  a  quilted  silk  coat, 
cut  with  a  pocket  containing  a  handkerchief 
edged  with  real  Mechlin  lace.  A  snapping, 
yapping  Pom  wore  a  bright  bow  of  ribbon 
edged  with  alternate  silver  bells  and  genuine 
black  pearls.  A  Toy  Bull  Dog  wore  a  gun- 
metal  collar  set  with  Turquoise.  They  were  all 
whimpering  and  yelping  together,  and  their  Mis- 
tresses were  all  talking  at  the  same  time,  when 
the  Duchess  noticed  that  Lady  Goldbury  was 
present  without  any  attendant  dog. 

"Dear  me,  Lady  Goldbury,"  she  said,  "where 
is  your  animal?" 

"Mr.  Hogg!"  loudly  announced  the  Footman. 

Lady  Goldbury  waved  her  hand  towards  the 
door  though  she  colored  a  little.  And  the  Duch- 
ess smiled. 

The  Duchess  did  not  want  Lady  Goldbury 
and  she  did  not  want  Hogg.  But  she  wanted 
a  finger  in  Industrials,  on  the  advice  of  Noel 
Ferrers,  who  climbing  by  the  usual  path,  had 
recently  put  the  Duchess  into  more  than  one 
good  thing.  She  did  not  want  the  money,  but 
the  instinct  of  Acquisition  is  strong  in  the  upper 


THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY          161 

class.  It  had  always  been  highly  developed  in 
the  Daneburys. 

She  was  especially  gracious  to  Ferrers  when 
he  arrived  therefore.  People  noticed  it,  and  were 
gracious  also.  He  was  shown  this  dog,  and  he 
patted  that.  He  was  assiduous  in  his  attentions 
to  them  when  they  were  assembled  at  the  table. 
When  Lady  Cirencester's  Poodle  dropped  a  half 
chewed  truffle  on  the  floor,  he  began  promptly  to 
replenish  its  place  with  chicken  and  cream,  but 
the  anxious  owner  stopped  him. 

"No — please,  Mr.  Ferrers — don't  press  him — 
I  am  afraid  my  dear  Nigger  has  been  a  naughty 
boy — he  made  quite  a  little  pig  of  himself  on 
marron  glaces  yesterday — besides,  you  know,  he 
always  goes  a  little  bit  off  color  at  the  end  of 
the  Season." 

There  appeared  to  be  similar  difficulties  in 
other  directions. 

"Curious  moral,"  Hogg  whispered  to  Lady 
Goldbury. 

"What!" 

"Those  little  beasts  won't  eat  what  hundreds 
of  people  within  half  a  mile  would  beg  for !  ... 


1 62         THE   SINS  OF  SOCIETY 

If  they  only  knew  that  there  was  half  a  chance 
they  would  be  standing  outside  in  rows,  praying 
that  the  old  Duchess  would  come  down  to  the 
door  and  .  .  .  feed  the  Poor  on  the  crumbs  that 
fall  from  the  Rich  Dog's  Table!" 

"Yes!"  replied  the  Widow.  "It  is  not  exactly 
the  picture  I  should  care  to  chalk  on  the  pavement 
in  Winter  time  for  hungry  men  to  see." 

"I  am  beginning  to  think  it's  not  the  picture 
for  anyone  to  see,"  Hogg  muttered  morosely,  "for 
tuppence  I'd  stop  my  check." 

"What  check?" 

"Subscription  to  the  Duchess's  Canine  Defence 
something  or  other  .  .  .  still  what  does  it  mat- 
ter? It's  only  gone  to  the  dogs,  like  so  many 
other  things  in  this  life.  .  .  .  Reputations  .  .  . 
hopes  .  .  .  lives  .  .  .  ' 

"What  are  you  thinking  about!" 

"Nothing,"  said  Hogg  shortly.  But  it  was 
not  true  ...  he  was  thinking  of  voices  calling 
in  the  moonlight,  of  loud  wailing  whistles,  of 
straining  oars  creaking  in  the  rollocks,  of  merci- 
ful gloom,  the  sound  of  rain  drops  pattering  on 
the  oily  river,  of  sudden  darkness,  a  fierce  blaze 


THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY;          163 

of  greenish  lightning,  the  crash  of  thunder  and 
a  tropical  downpour  as  a  Summer  storm  burst 
over  the  Thames  Valley  and  gave  him  his 
desperate  chance  of  escape  from  the  Osiers  near 
the  Lock  ...  he  was  thinking  of  wild,  wob- 
bling efforts  in  his  punt  ...  of  a  safe  landing, 
drenched  to  the  skin,  with  a  mysterious  Box 
hidden  under  his  coat  ...  of  a  friendly  Police- 
man who  knew  his  name  and  habits,  hailing  him 
with  a  chuckle  near  his  own  door,  under  the 
impression  he  had  had  another  ducking.  "Been 
at  it  again,  Mr.  Ogg?"  ...  of  a  drink  handed 
to  that  Policeman  in  the  darkness,  with  a  brief 
but  vivid  description  of  his  adventures  up  stream 
— and  a  complaint  that  he  had  shouted  for  help, 
but  np  one  came  to  him  ...  of  an  explanation 
that  men  on  "dooty"  were  "pretty  busy"  that 
night  ...  of  a  journey  to  town  next  day  with 
a  Box  for  safe  disposal  in  his  Private  Safe  .  .  . 
of  an  anxious  waiting  for  news  of  Dorian  March 
and  an  elucidation  of  the  mystery  .  .  .  and  then 
of  blank  unfathomable  silence. 

That  is  what  he  was  thinking  of  when  he  said 
that  he  was  thinking  of  nothing,  and  he  thought 


1 64          THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY 

of  it  all  the  more  when  he  saw  Noel  Ferrers 
speak  to  Gwen,  and  noticed  the  look  of  repulsion 
that  flitted  over  her  sweet  face. 

Not  knowing  what  might  have  been  the  out- 
come of  his  last  interview  with  Marion,  it  was 
characteristic  of  Ferrers  that  he  should »f ace  the 
situation  with  dogged,  insolent  resolution,  and 
learn  the  worst  or  best  at  once. 

"Lady  Marion  is  quite  well,  I  hope?"  he 
said. 

"Thanks — not  very — " 

"Indeed.  Lady  Gwendolin,  has  she  said  any- 
thing to  you  about — er — Me!' 

"No." 

"No?"  Victory.  Her  Courage  had  failed 
after  all.  She  knew  what  he  was — what  he 
meant.  He  had  told  her  in  plain  words.  And 
she  had  said  nothing!  For  an  instant  he  smiled. 
Then  looked  very  serious. 

"You  are  very  fond  of  her,  are  you  not,"  he 
said. 

"Very." 

"Don't  you  know  that  worry — constant  cruel 
worry,  is  nearly  killing  her?" 


THE   SINS   OF  SOCIETY          165 

"Indeed  I  do,  and  I  am  very,  very  anxious, 
Mr.  Ferrers — " 

"Better  help  her—" 

"I  wish  I  could!" 

"You  can  if  you  choose." 

"I?    How—?" 

"By  remembering  what  I  said  to  you  in  France 
— that  a  rich  man's  wife  is  rich  herself,  and  with 
her  riches — " 

The  girl  flushed  quickly.  "Do  you  think," 
she  said  indignantly,  "that  Marion  would  let  me 
help  her  at  that  price?  That  because  she  has 
lost  money  she  would  let  me  sell  myself  to  get 
it  back?" 

"Lady  Gwendolin,"  urged  Ferrers  impres- 
sively, "there  is  no  telling  when  a  man  who 
loves  you — loves  the  ground  you  walk  upon — 
would  give  you  his  whole  heart  and  all  he 
has  in  the  world — if  you  would  only  take 
it—" 

"In  return  for — what?  Contempt  for  myself 
— falseness  to  the  love  I  have  for — Someone  else  ? 
Don't  think  me  ungracious,  please — I — I  don't 
want  to  seem  unkind,  but  if  anyone  loved  me 


iTHE  SINS  OF  SOCIETY 

really  they  would  not  ask  me,  would  not  even 
wish  me  to  be  faithless  to  myself." 

Ferrers  bowed.  "Quite  right,"  he  said  slowly. 
"It  is  only  for  time  to  show  who  does  love  you 
best,  and  who  is  most  worthy  of  your — regard." 

Gwen  looked  him  proudly  in  the  face. 

"I  have  no  doubts,"  she  said.  Then  she  turned 
away  as  a  Footman  standing  at  Ferrers'  elbow, 
put  before  him  a  cable  message  on  a  silver  salver. 

He  tore  it  open  and  took  it  eagerly  to  the 
Duchess. 

"Not  bad,"  he  whispered  impressively,  "a  very 
nice  turn  in  the  market." 

"Most  excellent,"  said  the  Duchess,  though 
she  did  not  understand  the  message.  "How  much 
shall  I  make?" 

"Can't  tell  till  we  see  the  New  York  prices." 

"Cable  for  them." 

"They  will  be  in  the  first  edition  of  the  Star — 
it  should  be  out  by  now." 

"I'll  send  for  it  at  once.    Downes—  ?" 

For  the  first  time  in  the  history  of  Danebury 
House  an  astounded  Footman  was  despatched 
hurriedly  to  purchase  a  Radical  Evening  paper  I 


THE  SINS  OF  SOCIETY         167 

Even  in  the  Best  Families  political  convictions 
go  down  before  a  Stock  Exchange  quotation. 
Money  wins.  Ferrers  knew  it.  Despite  his  open 
avowals  Marion  Beaumont  had  remained  silent — 
she  was  in  a  desperate  corner  for  money.  Money, 
would  win  again — the  money  he  had  offered  her. 

But  he  glanced  at  his  watch  anxiously.  It  was 
nearing  the  time  when  Morris  had  said  he  would 
open  the  Box. 

Would  she  be  fool  enough  to  let  him?  No. 
He  could  not  believe  it.  She  would  probably  ask 
for  an  hour's  grace,  and  come  to  him. 

Then  money  would  win  Gwen! 

Incidentally  the  Duchess  was  talking  of  money. 

"Your  sister  is  fortunate,"  she  said  to  Gwen, 
"in  having  such  a  clever  friend  as  Mr.  Ferrers. 
He  is  quite  presentable  for  his  class.  He  has 
such  excellent  information.  Marion  would  soon 
be  out  of  her  difficulties  if  she  took  his  advice. 
Where  is  she,  by  the  way?" 

"She  will  be  here  presently,  Duchess.  Gone 
to  her  Solicitors — we  are  letting  the  town  house, 
you  know." 

"Quite  right.    Big  House  is  a  big  worry." 


1 68          THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY 

"Yes,  and  she  can't  stand  much  more.  It  was 
so  unlucky  on  Saturday  she  had  quite  a  shock." 

"Dear  me — what  from?" 

"Well,  we  are  at  Windsor,  you  know — it  was 
awfully  hot,  and  she  went  all  alone  for  a  stroll 
by  the  River  in  the  evening  There  was  an  excite- 
ment about  Burglars  or  something — and  some 
stupid  policeman  ran  after  Marion  in  the  dark 
and  caught  hold  of  her." 

"Really?  And  she  doesn't  look  a  bit  like  a 
cook." 

"No,  or  a  burglar.  Of  course  they  apolo- 
gized in  seven  positions  when  they  saw  who  it 
was,  but  it  frightened  her  fearfully!" 

"I  should  have  been  angry." 

"Well,  she  came  home  shaking  like  a  leaf — 
as  white  as  a  ghost — fainted  and  cried,  and  I 
simply  insisted  on  her  coming  to  town  and  seeing 
a  Doctor." 

"Most  sensible." 

Just  then  Ferrers  rapped  on  the  table  with  a 
silver  spoon  and  said,  "Ladies,  may  I  crave  your 
attention  for  just  one  moment.  I  have  been  asked 
by  the  Duchess  of  Danebury  to  explain  to  you 


THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY          169 

something  that  is  very  near  her  heart — I  may 
say  all  our  hearts — the  practical  side  of  this  very 
charming  function." 

There  was  a  brief  pause  while  the  Toy  Bulldog 
who  was  breathing  thickly  had  his  Turquoise 
collar  removed. 

"We  are  all  dog  lovers,"  Ferrers  went  on, 
"and  to  us  the  need  for  a  Dogs'  Defence  League 
is  obvious.  People  are  so  foolish  about  dogs. 
If,  in  trying  to  avoid  a  dog,  a  cyclist  is  killed  or 
a  motorist  is  maimed — the  dog  is  called  a  dan- 
gerous nuisance.  This  is  unfair.  The  Road  is 
habitually  used  as  a  Market,  as  a  Chapel,  as  a 
Political  Platform,  as  a  Children's  Playground, 
yet  if  people,  ignoring  this,  insist  on  using  the 
Road  as  a  Thoroughfare,  and  come  to  grief — 
they  blame  our  dogs." 

A  chorus  of  indignant  approval  followed, 
several  of  the  dogs  yelped  furiously,  and  the 
Pom  was  taken  out  to  be  sick  in  the  Conservatory. 

Warming  to  his  work  Ferrers  continued. 
"Then  look  at  the  state  of  the  Road?  The  dog 
likes  to  roll  in  it.  The  Dog  likes,  dear  foolish 
darling,  to  vary  his  menu  by  eating  odd  scraps 


170         THE   SINS  OF  SOCIETYj 

from  the  gutter — then  he  comes  home,  lies  on 
your  dress,  licks  your  hand,  kisses  the  baby  and 
sleeps  on  its  bed.  Next  day  if  you  are  ill — or  the 
child  is — you  wonder  where  contagion  came  from. 
Obviously  from  the  Road.  It  is  not  the  Dog's 
fault.  The  Road  must  be  cleaned — properly — 
thoroughly — we  must  insist  on  it — for  the  Dog's 
sake. 

"But  to  do  this  we  want  money. 

"Money  may  be  the  root  of  all  evil,  but  the 
lack  of  it  is  worse." 

There  was  a  shadow  at  the  door.  The  Foot- 
man stood  back  silently,  not  liking  to  announce  a 
name  in  the  midst  of  Ferrers'  oration,  and  no  one 
but  Ferrers  noticed  Marion  Beaumont  enter  the 
room.  Their  eyes  met  as  very  clearly  and  de- 
liberately he  went  on,  with  a  slight  emphasis  she 
could  not  fail  to  understand. 

"Without  money  we  can  do  nothing.  We 
cannot  help  our  Dogs.  Without  money  we  can- 
not help  ourselves,  or  save  ourselves  in  times  of 
difficulty  or  danger." 

Marion  turned  away.  Her  dress  rustled.  The 
Duchess  looked  up. 


THE  SINS  OF  SOCIETY          171 

"Don't  mind  me,  Mr.  Ferrers,"  she  said,  rising 
from  the  table,  "pray  proceed—  '  She  crossed  to 
welcome  the  newcomer,  and  they  talked  together 
unheard  while  Ferrers  continued  to  enthrall  a  de- 
lighted audience  with  the  felicities  of  his  address. 

"I  am  very  sorry,  dear,  to  see  you  looking  so 
pale,"  said  the  Duchess,  "also  to  hear  from 
Gwen  that  you  have  recently  had  a  distressing 
shock." 

"Yes.  It  was  very  stupid  of  me,  but  I — I  was 
really  frightened — " 

"Quite  so.    And  what  does  the  Doctor  say?" 

"O,  the  old  story.  Nerves.  I  want  rest. 
Freedom  from  worry." 

"What  not  take  it?" 

"I  am  afraid,  Duchess,  my  affairs — " 

"Pooh.  Try  a  little  polite  Bankruptcy — every- 
body does  it — and  winter  in  the  Riviera." 

"It — it's  Social  Bankruptcy  I  am  most  afraid 
of." 

"Why?  You  paid  your  debts  of  honor  at 
the  Pontifex.  You  have  no  other  serious  financial 
obligations?" 

"Only   Tradesmen— who   will   mostly  wait   I 


172          THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY 

think — so  my  Lawyer  says — I've  been  a  good 
customer." 

"And  no  private  worry?" 

"None,  I  hope — I  mean,  nothing  more  to  fear, 
I — I  think.  The  worst  of  Luck  must  turn  some 
day." 

"Of  course  it  must — ah!  the  paper — excuse  me 
for  a  moment — Mr.  Ferrers." 

The  Duchess  took  the  early  Star  from  Downes, 
and  handed  a  News  and  Post  to  her  financial 
adviser.  They  both  read  eagerly  and  silently. 
But  Ferrers  looked  up  under  his  brows  as  Marion 
passed  without  any  sign  of  recognition.  Did  she 
mean  to  cut  him  in  public?  Was  it  to  be  open 
war  between  them?  If  so — what  of  Morris  and 
the  Box? 

Curiously  enough  James  Hogg  suddenly 
thought  of  the  Box  also.  Something  about 
Marion's  figure,  the  carriage  of  her  head,  the 
trick  of  tossing  back  her  hair  with  her  left  hand, 
took  his  mind  back  to  the  river  bank,  and  Dorian 
March.  "For  a  woman's  sake."  He  heard  the 
words  again.  What  woman?  And  what  did  the 
mysterious  Box  contain? 


THE   SINS   OF  SOCIETY          173 

The  thought  of  Dorian  was  naturally  upper- 
most in  Marion's  mind.  She  spoke  truly  when 
she  said  that  she  "felt  safe."  She  did  to  a 
degree,  thinking  the  Box  was  with  Dorian. 
There  was  no  longer  any  fear  of  exposure  at 
the  hands  of  Morris.  Dorian  had  no  doubt  some 
good  reason  for  his  silence.  Still  if  she  only 
knew  for  certain 

"Splendid,"  said  the  Duchess  to  Ferrers,  "I 
shall  clear  a  cool  thousand  comfortably!" 

Ferrers  bowed,  smiling,  and  read  on.  The 
Duchess  sighed  complacently  and  turning  over 
the  paper  glanced  for  a  moment  at  the  news 
column. 

Then  she  said  suddenly,  "O  Marion,  here  is 
something  to  account  for  your  scare  the  other 
night.  'Sensational  Robbery  at  Windsor'?" 

Hogg's  eyes  opened  and  he  bit  his  lip. 

Marion  turned  a  shade  paler. 

"Robbery—?"  she  said. 

"Yes,"  the  Duchess  quoted  from  the  report, 
"at  the  house  of  a  Mr. — what  is  it — Morris,  a 
jeweller  pawnbroker  person." 

Ferrers  looked  up  with  a  start.    Several  people 


174         THE  SINS  OF   SOCIETY 

at  the  table  caught  the  familiar  name  and  came 
forward  to  listen. 

In  a  flat,  expressionless  voice  the  Duchess 
calmly  read  on. 

"A  box  containing  valuable  jewels  was 
stolen  under  mysterious  circumstances.  .  .  .  The 
Thieves  must  have  concealed  themselves  in  the 
house  and  contrived  to  drug  the  owner  .  .  . 
traces  of  Morphia  were  found  in  the  glass  at  his 
side  ...  it  is  feared  that  the  Burglars,  being 
perhaps  ignorant  of  the  nature  of  the  drug,  ter- 
ribly blundered  .  .  .  when  discovered  by  his 
servant  Morris  was  unconscious  .  .  .  medical  aid 
was  immediately  obtained  .  .  .  but  latest  rumors 
assert  that  the  unhappy  man  is  dead." 

"Dead  .  .  .    !" 

Marion  and  James  Hogg  gasped  the  same 
word  at  the  same  instant,  and  both  stood  rigid 
— paralyzed. 

"Dead,"  the  Duchess  repeated. 

The  word  fell  on  Marion's  ear.  like  a  death 
knell. 

"Dead  ...  on  the  garden  path  close  out- 
side the  window  by  which  access  to  the  room 


THE  SINS   OF   SOCIETY          175 

was  obtained  the  Police  picked  up  a  small  Egyp- 
tian Brooch — a  Blue  Scarab — which  did  not  be- 
long to  Morris,  and  may  or  may  not  be  a  clue 
to  the  identity  of  the  Criminals." 

"A  Blue  Scarab — a  Blue  Scarab."  That  was 
where  it  fell,  then!  Marion  repeated  the  words 
again,  "A  Blue  Scarab,"  in  a  voice  that  was  mean- 
ingless and  metallic. 

She  turned  slowly  towards  Ferrers  with  deadly 
fear  in  her  eyes  and  saw  that  his  blazed  with 
savage  triumph. 

"The  police  have  found  a  clue,  I  think,"  he 
hissed  at  her,  and  his  finger  trembled  on  the  paper 
before  him.  "It  says  here — Latest — Painful  De- 
velopment— a  young  officer  well  known  in  Society 
is  missing  from  his  quarters  at  Windsor." 

"Missing — !"    Gwen  was  at  his  side. 

"Missing — ?"  Marion  reeled. 

" — Missing.  Yes.  'He  was  last  seen  on  the 
River  with  another  man,  unrecognized,  under 
remarkable  circumstances.  The  Police  are  reti- 
cent. But  to-day  on  a  charge  of  attempted  Mur- 
'dert  a  warrant  was  issued  for  the  arrest  of — Sir 
Dorian  March!'" 


176          THE   SINS   OF  SOCIETY 

"Dorian  .  .  .    !" 

Like  the  last  despairing  cry  of  a  lost  soul  the 
name  of  her  lover  burst  from  the  lips  of  Gwen. 
Then  she  fell  forward,  and  lay  motionless,  un- 
resisting, insensible — in  the  arms  of  Noel  Ferrers ! 

His  eyes  devoured  her.  His  lips  silently 
framed  the  two  words  "At  Last!" 

Only  Marion  heard. 

To  her  it  seemed  that  his  grip  tightened  around 
the  fair  lithe  body  as  that  of  a  python  crushing 
a  dove.  Animal,  reptilian,  his  face  flushed  with 
hideous  exultant  passion.  She  sprang  forward 
to  tear  the  girl  from  his  grasp.  But  their  eyes 
met,  and  she  read  their  defiant  message. 

"The  Blue  Scarab  .  .  .   I" 

Verily  her  Sin  had  found  her  out.  She  had 
scattered  ruin  and  misery  on  every  hand. 

A  self  confessed  scoundrel  held  her  in  the 
hollow  of  his  hand.  He  had  but  to  speak  one 
word  and  she  would  take  the  place  of  Dorian 
March — accused  of  Theft  and  Murder. 

Facilis  Descensus  ...   I 


T 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE    FUGITIVE 

HE  oily  heave  of  a  fast  incoming  tide  red- 
dened beneath  a  glowing  sky  as  the  setting 
sun  dipped,  and  sank  beyond  the  dark  outline  of 
the  Isle  of  Wight. 

The  evening  gun  barked  sharply  from  Ports- 
mouth Fort.  The  Union  Jack  came  down  from 
the  peak  of  the  Victory,  and  every  flag  in  the  great 
Harbor  obediently  followed  suit. 

Outside  the  high  arched  gateway  of  a  big 
Barrack  the  Sentry  frowned  at  an  importunate 
private  soldier,  whose  general  appearance  was 
decidedly  not  a  credit  to  his  corps.  His  cap  was 
stuck  at  the  back  of  his  head.  The  buttons  of  his 
tunic  were  undone.  His  belt  was  awry.  He  was 
obviously  worse  for  drink  and  his  inquiries  were 
persistent  and  inarticulate.  The  Sentry  sternly 


178          THE   SINS   OF  SOCIETY, 

ordered  him  to  go  away,  but  he  would  not,  and 
serious  trouble  was  brewing  when  a  kindly  Re- 
cruiting Sergeant  intervened  and  led  the  man 
away. 

"What's  the  trouble,  my  man?"  he  said;  "put 
your  cap  straight — button  that  tunic — what's  your 
name?" 

"B— Bains,"  said  the  Private, 

"Very  well,  Bains,  what's  wrong?" 

"I  want  my  Sergeant — want  'im  most 
p'tickler." 

"O?    Where  d'  you  come  from?" 

Bains  thought  for  a  moment,  then  answered 
with  literal  accuracy: 

"Fro'  the  Rose  and  Crown." 

"No  doubt,"  said  the  Sergeant,  "but  I  mean 
before  that?" 

"Fro'  the  Spotted  Dog." 

The  Sergeant  knew  the  name  of  every  pub  in 
Portsmouth,  and  he  did  not  want  an  inventory, 
so  he  asked  a  little  sharply: 

"What  town  d'  you  come  from?" 

He  got  another  literal  reply. 

"Born  in  Preston — in  Lank-shir'." 


THE  SINS  OF   SOCIETY         1179 

"Confound  you,  do  you  come  from  a  Depot?" 

"Yes." 

"Which?" 

"Carlisle." 

"Where  are  you  going?" 

"Back  to  the  Rose  and  Crown,"  said  Bains 
triumphantly,  and  the  Sergeant  retired  from  the 
contest  muttering  something  about  the  imminent 
possibilities  of  "Clink" — which  is  soldier  slang 
for  gaol. 

Bains  solemnly  saluted  him  as  he  went:  pon- 
dered, swaying  for  a  few  seconds,  then  as  the 
moth  is  drawn  to  the  candle  he  lurched  once  more 
towards  the  Sentry,  when  luckily  the  man  for 
whom  he  was  looking,  Sergeant  Hayman  of 
his  own  regiment,  came  quickly  round  the 
corner. 

"Bains,"  he  said  angrily,  when  he  saw  the  man's 
condition.  "What  the  Deuce  d'you  mean  by 
wandering  about  like  this?  What  are  you  doing? 
What  do  you  want?" 

Bains  steadied  himself  and  hiccoughed  im- 
pressively. 


1 8o         THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY 

"  'Portant  information,"  he  said  in  a  hollow 
voice.  "Honor  of  the  cor'." 

"Yes,"  retorted  the  Sergeant,  "you  look  a  nice 
honor  to  the  corps,  don't  you?  Where  have  you 
been?" 

"To — the  Rose  and  Crown." 

"I  should  think  so.    With  Private  Lang?" 

Bains  held  up  one  hand,  then  waved  it  vaguely. 

"That's  it,"  he  said. 

"What's  it?"  said  the  Sergeant. 

"Lang." 

"Is  he  drunker  than  you  are?" 

Bains  shook  his  head. 

"He's  gone." 

"Gone  where?" 

"Dunno — but  he's  gone." 

"No  fool  either.  Tired  of  boozing — gone 
for  his  kit?" 

"No.  Not  for  his  kit."  Bains'  whisper  was 
sepulchral  and  awe-inspiring.  "He's  gone  for 
good." 

"For  what?  Dash  it."  The  Sergeant  seized 
Bains  by  the  shoulder,  "you  don't  mean 
Deserted?" 


THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY          181 

"I  do,"  said  Bains.  "That's  it!"  He  saluted 
the  universe  in  general,  then  came  unsteadily  to 
attention,  and  added,  "But  /  am  here." 

A  quick  oath  leaped  to  the  lips  of  Hayman. 
"Deserted!  Well,  I'm—" 

"Naughty!"  interjected  Bains  reprovingly. 

"D'you  know  his  road?"  the  Sergeant 
demanded. 

"No.    Train  somewhere  .  .  ." 

"That  settles  it!  Mayn't  catch  him  for  a 
year — and  we  sail  tonight.  I'm  in  for  it!" 

And  he  was. 

Troops  were  already  streaming  on  board  the 
transport  Beachy  Head  as  she  lay  at  the  dock 
side.  Derricks  clanked  and  baggage  swung  over, 
and  disappeared  into,  her  capacious  hold.  On 
the  top  of  the  tide  she  would  drop  down  the 
harbor  and  proceed  on  her  way  to  the  Mediter- 
ranean carrying  mixed  drafts  for  Gib,  Malta, 
and  the  East — linesmen  for  one  garrison,  gun- 
ners for  another,  engineers  and  promiscuous 
"details"  to  fill  up  the  blanks  left  by  invalids  or 
time-expired  men  coming  home. 

Sergeant  Hayman  had  come  down  from  the 


i82         ,THE  SINS   OF   SOCIETY 

'depot  at  Carlisle  in  charge  of  two  privates  of  the 
old  Border  Regiment.  It  was  his  duty  to  see 
them  safe  on  board  the  Transport.  Soldiers 
going  abroad  are  always  treated  leniently,  so, 
finding  that  he  had  several  hours  to  spare,  Hay- 
man  left  his  "details"  to  their  own  devices,  while 
he  went  in  pursuit  of  local  beauty.  During  this 
amatory  interval  Lang  got  sentimentally  drunk, 
and  became  stricken,  among  other  things,  by 
severe  Home  Sickness.  He  maundered  of  his 
mother,  and  the  dear  old  Cottage  by  the  Mill 
Stream,  and  his  dog  "Tinker,"  and  his  fair  young 
sister  Lizzie,  who  was  about  to  marry  a  parcel 
postman  who  was  quite  unworthy  of  her.  He 
told  all  this  to  the  sympathetic  Barmaid  of  the 
Rose  and  Crown,  who,  he  said,  had  hair  like 
Lizzie,  but  otherwise  bore  a  striking  resemblance 
to  his  deceased  Aunt.  The  Barmaid  squeezed 
his  hand  and  told  him  to  bear  up,  but  the  kindly 
act  unnerved  him.  He  broke  down  and  wept 
into  his  beer.  For  a  brief  period  emotion  battled 
with  strict  principle.  Then  desperation  got  the 
best  of  Duty.  He  swallowed  a  lot  of  raw  whiskey, 
bought  a  Belgian  Cigar  and  informed  Bains  that 


THE    SINS   OF   SOCIETY         i8r. 

he  meant  to  "off  it."  A  flood  of  alcoholic  argu- 
ment failed  to  shake  his  determination.  He  left 
his  kit  where  it  lay  in  a  corner  of  the  bar  room, 
reeled  off  to  the  Railway  Station,  and  blubbered 
himself  to  sleep  in  an  outgoing  London  train. 
Bains  was  far  too  muddled  to  prevent  him,  but 
he  did  the  next  best  thing,  he  hunted  about  for 
his  Sergeant — in  various  inviting  hostelries — and 
after  a  protracted  interval  found  him,  and  broke 
the  horrid  truth. 

For  Hayman  it  meant  the  loss  of  his  stripes 
and  degradation  to  the  ranks — all  because  a  fool 
of  a  Private  had  abused  his  freedom  and  run 
away.  Now,  loss  of  his  stripes,  his  rating  as 
Sergeant,  meant  a  considerable  loss  of  pension 
to  Hayman,  who  had  almost  served  his  full  time, 
and  was  shortly  leaving  the  Army.  His  soul, 
therefore,  was  filled  with  black  and  bitter  wrath. 
He  cursed  Bains  freely,  told  him  it  was  all  his 
fault  and  ordered  him  to  go  back  and  sit  on  his 
kit  at  the  Rose  and  Crown. 

Bains  went,  and  left  Hayman  standing  in  the 
fast  deepening  shadows.  The  glories  of  sunset 
were  fading  from  the  sky,  the  lamps  were  not 


1 84         THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY 

yet  lit,  and  in  the  dim  uncertain  half  light,  a 
tall  young  man,  with  a  cap  pulled  well  over  his 
eyes,  and  his  collar  turned  up,  partially  hiding 
his  face,  slouched  nervously  under  the  Barrack 
wall,  and  paused  for  a  moment  to  read  a  placard 
at  the  Gate.  He  looked  at  Hayman,  hesitated 
a  little,  and  then  coming  up  to  him,  said : 

"Are — are  you  the  Recruiting  Sergeant?" 

"No,"  said  Hayman,  shortly.  "You'll  find 
him — "  He  paused  and  looked  the  stranger  up 
and  down,  a  wild  and  desperate  notion  had 
suddenly  come  into  his  mind. 

"Want  to  'list,  my  lad?"  he  said  more  amiably. 

"Yes,"  said  the  stranger,  glancing  furtively 
from  side  to  side. 

"Any  choice  of  a  regiment?" 

"No — you  see  I — I've  been  playing  the  fool 
— gone  a  bit  of  a  mucker — want  to  get  away 
from  my  own  people,  and — and  out  of  the  country 
for  a  while,  as  soon  as  I  can — any  regiment  going 
abroad — " 

"Foreign  Service."  Hayman's  heart  leaped. 
He'd  heard  the  sort  of  story  often  enough  before, 
and  at  other  times  he  might  have  been  a  little 


THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY          185 

dubious.  Now  he  only  hoped  "the  trouble"  was 
bad  enough  for  his  purpose. 

"Quite  right,"  he  said  confidentially;  "nothing 
like  Foreign  parts  for  a  youngster  who's  gone  the 
pace.  But  it  means  six  months  training  at  the 
depot  first." 

"I  know,"  said  the  stranger,  but  corrected  him- 
self quickly.  "I  mean — I've  heard." 

"O,  have  you?"  Hayman  commented.  "Really. 
Not  the  first  time  you've  taken  the  shilling,  I'm 
thinking." 

"You're  wrong,"  the  man  stammered. 

"Am  I?"  said  Hayman  firmly.  "By  the  set 
of  them  shoulders  I'm  talking  to  a  soldier — d'you 
hear — soldier  to  soldier — man  to  man.  Now,  if 
I  do  you  a  turn,  will  you  do  me  one?" 

"What— what  is  it?" 

"Listen,"  said  Hayman,  "and  listen  care- 
fully." 

Briefly  he  detailed  the  circumstances  of  Lang's 
desertion.  Then  he  went  on.  "The  Beachy 
Head  sails  at  midnight.  What  I  have  to  do  is  to 
put  on  board  of  her  two  Privates.  One's  all  right 
and  will  hold  his  tongue.  I  know  him.  If  I'd 


i86         THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY 

got  another,  as  would  answer  to  the  name  of 
Private  Lang  and  knew  his  drill  .  .  ?" 

"Well — ?"  said  the  Stranger  feverishly. 

"I'd  take  him  to  the  Rose  and  Crown  ami 
give  him  the  deserter's  kit — he  was  about  your 
height — I'd  rig  him  out  in  the  uniform  or  buy 
him  another — there's  plenty  of  time,  and  then 
if  I  was  sure  that  he'd  answer  to  the  name  of 
Private  John  Lang,  Border  Regiment,  six  months' 
recruit  from  the  depot  at  Carlisle — I'd  march 
him  aboard  the  Beachy  Head  and  he'd  sail  for 
Gib  tonight.  .  .  ." 

"Tonight!" 

"Yes."  Hayman  took  the  Stranger  by  the 
arm.  "How  bad's  the  trouble  you're  bolting  from, 
my  boy?  Here's  a  chance  of  leaving  it  behind  you 
if  you  like.  Have  you  got  the  pluck  to  take  it?" 

"Yes!"  The  Stranger  gripped  his  hand. 
"You've  helped  a  lame  dog  over  a  stile,  Sergeant, 
and  he  won't  forget  it.  Let  me  get  into  the 
uniform  quick!  Where's  the  other  detail  and  the 
kit?" 

The  last  words  rang  with  a  curious  authority. 
Instinctively  Hayman  responded  to  the  note  of 


»THE  SINS  OF  SOCIETY         '187 

command.  He  came  smartly  to  attention  and 
saluted. 

"This  way,  sir,"  he  said.  Then  his  eyebrows 
lifted.  "I  mean — this  way,  Private  Lang"  he 
added. 

He  turned  and  went  forward  along  the  dim 
street  without  another  word.  His  desperate 
expedient  had  succeeded  beyond  his  wildest  hope. 
He  would  be  out  of  the  Army  with  his  com- 
muted pension  in  his  pocket  long  before  his  fraud 
could  be  discovered — if  it  were  ever  discovered — 
still  he  wondered  many  things. 

But  he  did  not  dream  that  behind  him,  foot- 
sore, bedraggled,  mud-stained,  with  hidden  face, 
skulking  through  the  shadows,  there  followed — 

Dorian  March! 

******* 

The  glorious  calm  of  a  perfect  summer  day 
lay  on  the  gray  tides  of  the  Channel,  as  the  Trans- 
port, "Beachy  Head,"  lumbered  comfortably 
towards  the  South. 

Children  raced  and  scampered  on  the  deck. 
The  soldiers'  wives  gathered,  chatting  in  little 
groups,  the  men  sat  about  playing  cards,  smoking, 


1 88          THE   SINS   OF  SOCIETY! 

or  listening  to  a  duet  between  a  banjo  and  a 
concertina.  Many  crowded  to  the  bulwarks  when 
the  islands  of  Jersey  and  Guernsey  were  passed 
in  the  distance,  and  later  others  stared  with 
interest  at  the  low  line  of  the  French  coast  on 
the  horizon.  There  was  practically  no  motion 
save  for  the  reverberation  of  the  thudding  screw. 

As  evening  fell  the  sun  set  in  a  low  cloud  bank 
to  the  West,  and  presently  the  cool  night  breeze 
drove  here  and  there  a  ghostly  patch  of  white  mist 
over  the  water.  On  the  far  off  coast  a  low  light- 
house winked  and  blinked  its  appointed  warning. 

Suddenly  from  a  nearer  headland,  looming 
tall  and  dark  over  the  water,  there  shot  into  the 
air  long  lustrous  fan-shaped  beams  which  began 
slowly  to  revolve  like  a  luminous  windmill.  Out 
there  on  the  deep  sea  it  seemed  rather  a  ridiculous 
performance,  and  the  children  laughed  and 
clapped  their  hands. 

"Ushant,"  said  a  Gunner,  who  was  leaning 
over  the  side  next  Dorian,  a  little  apart  from  the 
others. 

"Cape  Ushant?" 

"Yes.    And  we're  rather  close  in  too.    Beastly 


THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY          189 

dangerous  place — don't  know  why  the  Captains 
hug  it — 'cept  it's  the  last  bearing  that  they  get 
afore  crossing  the  Bay." 

"Seen  it  before?" 

"Yes.  Comin'  home  from  India.  Wish  I'd 
stayed  there  an'  rotted  first." 

"Why?" 

The  Gunner  looked  at  Dorian.  Chance  had 
thrown  them  together  for  the  greater  part  of 
the  day.  A  dozen  little  things  betray  one  soldier 
to  another,  but  every  heart  knows  its  own  bitter- 
ness, and  they  are  invariably  loyal  to  each  other's 
secrets. 

"Why?"  said  the  Gunner,  and  he  stared  out 
into  the  darkness;  "  'cos  if  I  hadn't  come  home  I 
shouldn't  have  to  have   done,  what — er  others 
sometimes  do,  change  my  name  and  list  all  over 
again — haven't  you  never  read  Kipling's  poem 
about  the  chap  that  was  driven 
*To  lie  and  to  cheat 
To  get  out  of  the  street 

And  back  to  the  Army  again.' 
only  I  didn't  do  my  lying  for  the  sake  of  a  living, 
I  done  it  for  the  sake  of  a  gal." 


1 9o         THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY] 

Dorian's  cheeks  reddened  in  the  darkness. 

"For — for  the  sake  of  a — a  girl?" 

"Yes.  More  fool  me.  She'll  have  forgotten 
all  about  me  and  married  someone  else  in  a  twelve 
month." 

"You — you  think  that  really?" 

"Course  I  do.    They're  all  alike." 

"Then  why—?" 

'  'Cos  I  was  struck  on  her — dead  struck  and 
she  was  in  trouble." 

"Poor  girl — perhaps  it — it  wasn't  her 
fault.  .  .  ." 

"O  yes,  it  was.  Flash  lot — you  know,  yaller 
hair,  cheap  jewelry,  and  a  silk  petticoat  wot 
rustled  on  Sundays — Barmaid  at  Chatham — 
sneaked  money  from  the  till  to  buy  finery.  She 
come  to  me  howlin'  and  I  played  the  bloomin' 
heroic  idiot — went  to  her  Boss,  did  a  confession, 
swore  I  had  the  money,  then  bolted." 

"Deserted  .  .  .   ?"  whispered  Dorian. 

"That's  it,"  the  Gunner  replied.  "Don't  much 
care  who  knows  it,  neither.  Deserted — listed  to 
hide  from  the  p'leece — wondered  every  day  what 
would  'appn  next — who'd  know  me,  who'd  take 


THE  SINS   OF   SOCIETY]          191 

me — me,  with  ten  years'  service  and  my  stripes 
doin'  goose  step  and  playing  at  rookey  in  the  yard 
— all  for  a  gal's  sake — me,  with  clean  'ands  wait- 
ing for  the  'and-cuffs — nice  sort  of  fool,  wasn't  I? 
Think  there's  another  fool  like  me  in  the  'ole  wide 
world?" 

"Who  knows?"  said  Dorian,  "when  a  man 
loves  truly.  .  .  ." 

"He  ought  to  be  hanged  for  a  warning!  He 
ought  to  be  told  ...  see  that  light  there — the 
whirley-gig  on  Ushant?  .  .  .  there's  a  Marconi 
on  that  head-land  .  .  .  wireless  telegraph,  you 
know  .  .  .  nice  I  should  look  if  they  was  callin' 
up  this  old  packet  now  saying,  'you've  a  gunner 
aboard,  deserter,  fraudulent  listed  .  .  .  Thief 
.  .  .  put  'im  in  irons  and  land  'im  at  Gib'  .  .  . 
all  for  a  gal's  sake  .  .  .  'ow  would  you  like  that, 
eh?" 

Dorian  did  not  answer  but  his  heart  beat 
quickly  and  his  mind  raced  back  over  the  fears 
and  tortures  of  the  last  three  days.  He  asked 
himself — what  had  he  done,  what  was  he  doing 
now,  for  a  girl's  sake? 

.  .  .  His   eyes   were    fixed   on   the    sweeping 


i92          THE   SINS  OF   SOCIETY 

beams  of  light,  but  he  hardly  noticed  that  they 
dimmed  a  little  behind  a  drifting  curtain  of  cold 
damp  fog  ...  he  remembered  only  a  desperate 
struggle  on  a  rapid  river  .  .  .  later  a  panting 
struggle  to  the  bank  .  .  .  the  finding  of  a  boat, 
and  a  sharp  pull  in  pouring  rain  down  stream 
.  .  .  passing  two  locks,  over  the  rollers,  in  the 
darkness  while  the  Lock  Keepers  slept  .  .  .  the 
coming  to  a  small  town  before  dawn,  the  ringing 
up  of  a  little  "reach-me-down"  clothes  shop  with 
a  tale  of  a  night  row  for  a  bet — a  ducking,  and 
the  need  for  a  dry  rig  out — just  anything  to  get 
home  in  ...  the  long  tramp  across  the  fiefds  and 
through  bye-lanes  to  a  country  station  ...  a 
short  train  journey — another  walk  .  .  .  another 
journey  .  .  .  doubling  and  changing  to  hide  his 
tracks  .  .  .  always  with  one  end  in  view  .  .  . 
the  Sea. 

.  .  .  Always  with  one  terror  at  his  heels — the 
Unknown  from  which  he  flew — till  the  hour  when 
his  eye  caught  a  flaring  news  placard  and  he 
walked  from  the  Railway  down  a  quiet  shaded 
Lane  to  feverishly  scan  an  evening  paper  .  .  . 
and  out  of  its  print  the  Known  sprang  up  and 


THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY          193 

struck  him  in  the  face  .  .  .  the  Jewel  Robbery 
at  Windsor  .  .  .  Morris  .  .  .  the  man's  possi- 
ble death  .  .  .  then  the  Warrant  for  his  own 
arrest  .  .  .  theft  and  attempted  Murder!  .  .  . 
and  that  was  the  work  of  Marion  Beaumont — 
the  sister  of  Gwen,  the  girl  he  loved  .  .  .  one 
word  from  him  and  Marion  would  stand, 
accused,  in  his  place,  .  .  .  and  Gwen?  .  .  . 
No!  For  her  sake  he  would  go  on  ...  get 
clean  away  and  give  Marion  time  to  repair  the 
wrong  she  had  done  if  it  were  possible — if 
Morris  only  lived  ...  if  not?  .  .  .  could  he 
ever  go  back  and  call  Gwen's  sister  a  Murderess 
.  .  .  flight  and  hope  were  the  only  things  left 
at  the  moment  .  .  .  Morris  hung  between  life 
and  death  .  .  .  and  on  his  life  all  things  were 
hanging  .  .  .  till  the  issue  were  proved  .  .  . 
well,  at  least  the  Fates  were  merciful  in  that 
Dorian  changed  safely  to  plain  John  Lang  was 
speeding  to  a  Sanctuary  of  oblivion  beyond  the 
Sea  .  .  .  for  a  girl's  sake  ...  all  for  a  girl's 
sake. 

"There's  no  fool  like  a  fool  in  love,"  said  the 
Gunner.     "Cupid  the  God  of  Love,  indeed — 'be 


194         THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY 

hanged  for  a  tale,'  the  proper  God  of  Love's  a 
bloomin'  Blindfold  Jack  Ass !" 

The  whirling  beams  of  light  dimmed  suddenly, 
paled,  flickered  and  faded  as  the  Beachy  Head 
slid  into  a  low  white  fog  bank,  that  clung 
around  her  rattlings  and  streamed  about  her  great 
tall  funnels  like  a  damp,  dank,  shroud. 

The  steam  whistle  boomed  out  one  deep  wail- 
ing warning  note,  voices  were  hushed,  sounds 
muffled,  the  uncanny  silence  was  broken  only  by 
the  lap  and  ripple  of  the  water  and  the 
steady  churning  of  the  screw  .  .  .  even  the 
huge  forereaching  bulk  of  the  big  ship  seemed 
to  blur  and  vanish  as  she  drove  forward,  and 
the  fog  thickened  about  her  .  .  .  Dorian  felt 
that  he  was  passing  away  utterly  from  the  very 
World  itself  and  all  he  knew  of  it — drifting  out 
on  a  vague  journey  into  immeasurable  space— 
into  the  unknown,  the  unseen — for  ever  cut  off 
from  everything.  .  .  . 

"Below  there—Orderly?" 

A  muffled  voice  was  calling  down  from  the 
Bridge. 

"Where's  the  Officer  of  the  Deck?" 


THE  SINS   OF  SOCIETY]         195 

"Forward,  sir." 

"Ask  him  to  step  this  way  at  once — quick — 
Marconi  message  from  the  Shore — important — ' 

Dorian's  vague  vision  vanished  at  the  touch 
of  raw  reality.  The  Gunner  gripped  him  by 
the  arm. 

'  'Member  what  I  said?"  he  whispered. 
"Marconi  from  the  shore!  It's  me,  right  enough 
— 'ang  it  and  no  time  for  a  square  drink — they'll 
shove  me  in  the  cells  sober!  There's  no  fool 
like  a  fool  in  love !" 

But  Dorian  neither  spoke  nor  stirred.  He 
watched  the  dim  figures  of  Officers  moving 
quickly  in  the  darkness.  He  saw  the  Colonel 
come  aft  .  .  .  there  was  a  hurried  consultation 
round  a  piece  of  paper  held  before  a  ship's  lan- 
tern— then  a  low  order. 

Instantly  a  hoarse  bugle  note  sounded  the 
"Fall  in!" 

Right  and  left  men  scrambled  to  their  feet  and 
ranged  up  along  the  bulwarks,  looking  from  one 
to  another,  whispering  curiously.  What  was  hap- 
pening? Through  the  fog  and  the  darkness  one 
could  scarcely  see  a  dozen  yards — over  all  the 


196          THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY 

Ship's  Bridge  and  tall  funnels  loomed  indistinct- 
ly— the  red  and  green  head  lights  swam  in  a  wet 
misty  halo — now  and  again  the  heavy  fog  horn 
boomed — 

The  Colonel  spoke  in  a  low  voice. 

Then  an  Officer  called  "Drafts — Border  Regi- 
ment?" 

From  somewhere  in  the  shadow  Bains  an- 
swered "Here,  sir." 

The  Gunner  sank  back  against  the  bulwarks 
and  Dorian's  breath  caught  as  he  faltered 
"Here—" 

"Parade." 

Bains  stepped  forward  and  came  to  attention. 
For  an  instant  Dorian  felt  the  Gunner's  hand 
clasp  his  own,  and  he  heard  the  whisper  "Poor 
chap."  Then  he  joined  his  comrade. 

The  Colonel  faced  the  two  men. 

''Private  George  Bains,  Private  John  Lang 
— which  is  George  Bains?" 

Bains  saluted. 

"Right  turn.  Dismiss.  Come  here,  Lang." 
The  Colonel  moved  a  few  paces  towards  the 
mast,  where  he  was  out  of  the  general  hearing. 


THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY          197 

"You  are  Private  John  Lang — six  months' 
recruit — from  the  depot  at  Carlisle?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"That's  a  Lie.  Private  John  Lang  deserted 
at  Portsmouth  when  drunk — had  the  sense  to 
give  himself  up  when  sober — has  been  con- 
fronted with  his  Sergeant,  who  has  confessed 
his  fraud  but  denies  all  knowledge  of  your 
identity." 

"Does  that  matter  sir,"  Dorian  pleaded  des- 
perately. "As  a  fact,  like  lots  of  other  chaps 
I — I  got  into  a  foolish  scrape  and — for  every- 
one's sake  it  was  best  I  should — get  away — and 
make  a  new  name  for  myself — if  I  could  .  .  . 
mayn't  I  have  the  chance — a  soldier's  chance — 
if  I  get  it  I  shan't  fail,  sir!" 

There  was  a  pause.  The  Colonel  looked 
Dorian  full  in  the  face  and  his  voice  was  low 
and  solemn. 

"Listen  to  me,"  he  said.  "I  am  very  proud 
of  the  cloth  I  wear — very  proud  of  the  King's 
Service.  No  soldier  would  see  them  disgraced. 
I  have  here,"  he  tapped  the  Marconi  message 
in  his  hand,  "I  have  here  the  description  of  a 


198         THE  SINS   OF   SOCIETY* 

certain  man.  Answer  me — on  your  Honor. 
Are  you  Captain  Sir  Dorian  March  of  the  Third 
Life  Guards?" 

His  honor?  He  was  given  his  full  rank  and 
title,  by  a  Man  of  Honor  as  a  Man  of  Honor, 
by  a  Soldier  as  a  Soldier. 

And  the  Honor  of  the  Soldier  answered  .  .  . 

"  Yes " 

•       •       •        JL    C-O  * 

The    Colonel's    lip    twitched   painfully.      His 

voice  dropped  lower  still. 

i 

"If  you  snatch  the  revolver  from  my  belt  and 
blow  your  brains  out,"  he  said,  "I  won't  stop  you. 
If  you  make  a  dash  for  the  side — go  over  and 
drown — I  won't  stop  you.  For  your  Honor's 
sake — finish  it!" 

"Finish—?" 

".Yes.  You  are  leaving  behind  you  no  fool- 
ish scrape.  You  are  leaving  behind  you  a  man, 
Morris  a  jeweller,  who  was  drugged  and  robbed 
— a  man  so  badly  drugged  that  his  life  hangs  in 
the  balance — finish  it!  Don't  you  understand 
me — you  an  unknown  man  finish  it  here  at  sea, 
you'll  have  no  chance  once  you're  under  arrest 
— Finish  it!  For  if  Morris  the  jeweller  dies  to- 


THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY          199 

night,  you,  Captain  Sir  Dorian  March  will  hang 
for  Murder !  Finish  it." 

"Finish  it!  Finish  it  or  Speak.  Finish  it 
or  hang  Gwen's  sister." 

"Finish  it  ...  God  help  me !" 

Dorian's  hand  snatched  towards  the  revolver 
svhen  .  .  .  the  great  Ship  echoed  from  end  to 
end  with  a  tearing  crashing  shock! 

All  about  him  men  were  flung  from  their  feet 
and  lay  sprawling  on  the  deck,  shouts,  screams, 
curses,  rent  the  darkness,  a  frightened  herd  of 
women  and  children  screaming,  half-clad,  poured 
up  the  hatchways,  a  cloud  of  hissing  steam  roared 
up  from  the  engine  room,  Dorian  was  swept 
against  the  bulwarks  by  a  wild  panic-stricken  mob 
.  .  .  for  the  Gunner's  prediction  had  been  real- 
ized. The  "Beachy  Head"  had  followed  the 
footsteps  of  the  ill-fated  "Drummond  Castle"  .  . 
she  had  made  the  Ushant  Light  too  close  .  .  . 
under  the  fog  bank,  the  strong  current  had  swept 
her  from  her  course  on  to  the  terrible  sunken 
rocks  of  the  French  Coast. 

Almost  instantly  a  dull  thud  was  followed  by 
a  volume  of  reeking  smoke — through  her  torn 


2OO 

sides  the  water  had  poured  into  the  fires — power 
was  gone,  the  engines  stopped,  the  electric  light 
went  out — under  the  night,  in  the  thickening  fog 
the  doomed  ship  lay  in  the  double  darkness ! 

.  .  .  Sharp  commands  brought  order  presently, 
and  with  it  the  added  terror  of  silence  ...  I 
silence  in  the  fog  .  .  .  silence  with  only  a  few 
yards  of  wet  deck  visible  .  .  .  silence  and  the 
calmly  black  water  over  side  .  .  .  silence — and 
the  fear  of  instant  calamity  on  the  slowly  sloping 
planks  .  .  .  silence  .  .  .  for  how  long?  .  .  . 
a  blue  Flare  suddenly  flamed  over  the  side,  blocks 
creaked —  ...  a  white  ghostly  boat  swung  over 
and  splashed  down  ...  a  surge  of  trampling 
feet  ...  a  stern  voice,  "Stand  back  .  .  .  the 
Women  first!"  .  .  .  would  there  be  time  for 
the  men  to  follow?  .  .  .  Dorian  felt  it  as  he 
stood  .  .  .  wondered  .  .  .  then  heard  the  Col- 
onel's voice  giving,  calmly  as  though  on  the  par- 
ade, the  order — "All  ranks — fall  in"  .  .  .  and 
voice  after  voice  took  up  the  words,  "Fall  in — 
fall  in." 

For  a  moment  the  instinct  of  discipline  pre- 
vailed,  and  soldiers   struggled  to   their  posts — 


2OI 

but  death  has  many  aspects — courage  many  forms 
— and  one  man  maddened  by  smothering  horror 
of  drowning  in  silent  fog  sprang  to  the  rattlings 
screaming,  "Fall  in  be  damned!  Can't  you  feel 
• — she's  sinking — will  you  stay  here  and  drown 
like  rats  while  the  officers  go  first?  No!  Save 
yourselves — The  BOATS  !" 

A  wild  rush  followed  .  .  .  officers  shouted, 
even  drew  their  swords  .  .  .  women  were  rough- 
ly pushed  aside  .  .  .  men  fought  like  beasts, 
forgetting  everything  .  .  .  when  Dorian  saw 
leaning  against  the  Mast  beside  him  a  light  pole 
topped  by  a  color  case.  The  Colors!  The 
Regiment's  Flag!  How  many  men  had  died  to 
follow — how  many  to  save  it!  The  Colors! 
The  Emblem  of  all  that  the  Soldier  holds  most 
dear!  In  a  second  it  was  in  his  hand — in  a 
second  the  battle-stained  silken  folds  fluttered 
high  in  the  air,  and  Dorian's  strong  young 
voice  thundered  above  the  din. 

"  'Tention.  Stand  to  your  Colors,  MEN — 
fall  in!!" 

He  knew  the  magic  of  those  words. 

"Stand  to  your  Colors— MEN!" 


202)         (THE  SINS  OF  SOCIETY 

Like  magic  the  babble  ceased — like  magic  the 
ranks  were  formed  .  .  .  the  women  hurried  to 
the  boats  .  .  .  the  men  stood  like  men  .  .  .  fac- 
ing the  end  with  set  teeth  .  .  .  "Stand  to  your. 
Colors j  MEN"  .  .  .  never  a  muscle  moved 
.  .  .  the  great  ship  sagged — rolled  ...  a  voice 
gasped,  "She's  gone,"  .  .  .  "What  does  it 
matter,"  Dorian  cried.  "We've  faced  death  un- 
der the  Old  Flag  before — what  does  it  matter  if 
we  face  it  again — as  long  as  we  face  it  like  men" 
.  .  .  "'Tention  there  .  .  .  Men  .  .  .  salute  the 
Flag!" 

He  raised  the  Colors  with  both  hands,  and 
the  Colonel  stood  before  him  with  his  sword  hilt 
at  his  lips,  as  a  deafening  cheer  went  up  ... 
and  the  last  boat  pushed  away. 

.  .  .  Then  the  "Beachy  Head"  rolled  heavily, 
and  the  merciful  Fog  with  pitying  hand  spread  a 
shroud  of  honor  over  the  last  agony  of  brave 
men,  as  the  huge  vessel  pitched,  and  sank  beneath 
the  Sea. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE    PRICE   OF   SILENCE 

A  SHUDDER  of  horror  ran  through  Eng- 
land when  the  news  came  home. 

Among  other  things  special  columns  were  given 
to  the  story  of  Private  John  Lang's  desertion,  his 
confession,  his  trial,  and  the  Police  theory  that 
the  man  who  took  his  place  was  the  missing  Sir 
Dorian  March.  Color  was  lent  to  this  surmise 
by  the  narratives  of  the  few  survivors  who  were 
picked  up  by  the  boats. 

But  Dorian  was  not  among  them.  So  the 
Windsor  Mystery  remained  unsolved  and  soon 
came  to  be  forgotten  in  the  greater  tragedy. 

It  was  rarely  absent  from  the  mind  of  James 
Hogg,  however.  In  his  private  safe  he  left  the 
fatal  Box  untouched — though  its  description  was 
widely  advertised  and  circulated.  Whatever 
police,  or  people,  might  think,  nothing  had  been 


204          THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY 

proved  against  Dorian  March,  and  Hogg  would 
not  blacken  his  memory.  Besides,  there  was  the 
woman — whoever  she  might  be.  Dorian  had 
paid  for  his  devotion  to  her  with  his  death.  That 
at  least  was  certain.  Hogg  pitied.  He  had  no 
heart  to  punish  even  if  he  could.  For  the  sake 
of  the  quick  and  the  dead  his  lips  were  sealed. 
But  he  pondered  long  and  often. 

The  skill  of  Sir  Benjamin  Harley  just  saved 
Marion  from  brain  fever.  Society  was  sympa- 
thetic. Her  financial  difficulties  were  notorious, 
and  it  was  felt  that  the  tragedy  of  Dorian  filled 
her  cup  to  the  brim.  Nobody  wondered  that  she 
should  give  up  her  town  house — and  especially 
her  Windsor  Cottage — when  Sir  Benjamin  in- 
sisted that  she  should  go  away  for  a  long  rest 
cure  to  a  quiet  village  on  the  Devonshire  Coast. 

Morris  the  jeweller  did  not  wonder  either. 
Being  a  healthy  man  of  sound  constitution  he 
recovered  rapidly  directly  the  first  effects  of  his 
overdose  began  to  pass  away.  A  few  days  in  the 
tonic  air  of  Folkestone  soon  put  him  on  his  legs 
again.  There,  in  the  midst  of  a  walk  along  the 
Leas  on  a  gloriously  bright  morning,  he  paused 


THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY          205 

to  watch  the  shipping  in  the  Channel.  A  large 
steamer,  belching  volumes  of  black  smoke,  seemed 
rather  close  in  land,  and  he  asked  the  attendant 
of  the  Lift  to  the  Undercliff,  opposite  the  Metro- 
pole,  what  the  ship  might  be. 

"Transport,  sir,"  the  man  replied.  "Troop 
ship — same  as  the  'Beachy  Head.'  Terrible  job 
that,  sir — wasn't  it?" 

"It  was  indeed,"  said  Morris,  and  he  gazed 
down  at  the  steamer  for  some  time  without  a 
word,  for  the  catastrophe  had  placed  him  in  a 
strange  position. 

As  a  pawnbroker  and  jeweller  he  was  generally 
insured  against  burglary  or  theft  at  his  business 
premises.  But  Lady  Marion's  Tiara  had  been 
stolen  from  his  Windsor  Cottage,  to  which  the 
insurance  did  not  extend.  If  Lady  Marion  asked 
for  the  return  of  her  Box  he  could  not  give  it 
to  her.  Then  she  would  be  entitled  to  ask  for 
the  value  of  what  it  was  supposed  to  contain. 
He  firmly  believed  that  the  Box  contained  nothing. 
But  as  the  Box  was  gone  he  could  not  prove  it. 
On  the  day  that  she  paid  him  seven  thousand 
pounds  she  could  demand  her  Tiara  or  its  equiva- 


2o6         THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY 

lent  in  cash — which  meant  for  him  a  very  heavy 
loss  against  which  he  was  not  insured. 

He  had  received  a  formal  letter  from  her 
solicitors  saying  the  condition  of  her  health  was 
such  that  she  had  been  forbidden  by  her  medical 
advisers  to  receive  letters  or  attend  to  business. 

Some  day  she  would  recover.  Then  what  would 
happen? 

The  prospect  of  being,  as  it  were,  robbed  twice 
over  was  very  distasteful.  Morris,  therefore, 
protested  to  the  police  that  they  should  continue 
their  efforts  and  he  increased  the  Reward  which 
he  had  offered  for  the  discovery  of  the  Box. 
The  police  shook  their  heads.  But  Morris  in- 
sisted that  though  the  theory  of  Dorian's  com- 
plicity was  plausible,  it  was  only  a  theory — at 
least  a  second  man  was  somehow  connected  with 
the  affair,  a  man  who  had  been  seen  but  never 
found,  and  above  all  that  the  true  clue  to  the 
actual  perpetrator  of  the  theft  lay  in  ...  the 
Blue  Scarab  brooch. 

To  one  very  eminent  Detective,  a  really  clever 
and  discreet  investigator  whom  he  knew  well, 
Morris  privately  disclosed  the  whole  of  the  facts. 


THE  SINS  OF  SOCIETY         203 

According  to  all  the  rules  of  logic  Lady  Marion 
Beaumont  was  the  only  person  who  had  an 
interest  in  stealing  the  Box.  In  her  interview  at 
his  Cottage  she  had  revealed  her  intense  anxiety. 
Outside  his  window  was  found  such  an  ornament 
as  a  woman  might  wear,  therefore 

The  great  Detective  shrugged  his  shoulders 
and  smiled  deprecation. 

"Mr.  Morris,"  he  said,  "that's  all  right— but 
on  grave  suspicion  only  I  could  hang  half  May- 
fair!  That  poor  Sir  Dorian  was  in  your  affair 
somehow  is  fairly  proved — that  she  was  in  it 
isn't." 

"And  if  I  can't  prove  it  I  may  have  to  pay — " 

"Certainly.  For  if  you  can't  prove  it — who 
can?" 

Marion  Beaumont  knew. 

She  was  safe  now  from  all  things  except — Noel 
Ferrers. 

In  her  desperate  effort  to  escape  from  his 
clutches  she  had  rivetted  her  chain.  He  knew 
where  the  Blue  Scarab  came  from — to  whom  it 
belonged.  More  surely  than  ever  he  held  her  in 
a  vise.  More  certainly  than  ever  he  determined 


208          THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY 

that    Gwen    should    pay    the    price    of    mercy. 

During  the  first  days  of  Marion's  prostration 
in  London  he  had  called  with  flowers  and 
inquiries  as  though  he  were  her  oldest  and  best 
friend.  Mercilessly  he  sent  her  under  sealed 
cover  a  cutting  from  a  paper  in  which  the  Blue 
Scarab  brooch  was  minutely  described.  He  most 
admirably  advised  her  solicitor  concerning  the 
realization  of  her  stocks  and  shares,  suggested 
the  necessity  for  a  personal  interview  which  the 
Solicitor  frankly  recommended  and,  under  the 
circumstances,  her  doctor  did  not  refuse. 

He  sat  by  her  side  and  smiled  at  the  wreck 
of  a  woman  as  a  Tiger  purrs  over  a  stricken 
Antelope. 

Quite  brutally  he  put  the  truth. 

"You  haven't  the  pluck  to  die,"  he  said.  "If 
you  want  peace — and  health — which  means  life 
to  you — see  me  whenever  I  choose,  as  your  best 
and  closest  friend — speak  of  me  like  that,  warmly, 
gratefully,  to  Gwen — then  I'll  help  you  in  every 
way.  If  not — " 

The  cowed  and  broken  creature  obeyed — in 
deadly  fear  like  a  beaten  animal — in  his  presence 


THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY          209 

or  his  absence,  doing  his  work  so  well  that  even 
Gwen  was  reconciled  in  a  measure  to  his  visits. 

When  the  time  came  for  moving  and  the 
little  house  was  taken  by  the  Sea,  he  saw  to 
everything  and  after  they  were  installed  he 
was  never  long  away.  The  long  railway  journey 
did  not  deter  him.  He  thoughtfully  brought 
Gwen  whatever  he  fancied  she  might  want  from 
town — his  manner  to  her  was  always  courteous, 
respectful,  sympathetic:  he  was  quite  content  to 
wait  till  time  began  to  blunt  the  keen  edge  of 
her  grief.  Now  that  his  rival  was  gone  he 
wanted  to  win  her  without  open  compulsion,  if 
possible.  He  could  rely  on  Marion's  help. 

He  calculated  also  that  changed  circumstances 
would  contribute.  Youth  is  elastic.  When  the 
memory  of  Dorian  began  to  fade,  poverty  would 
be  felt  more  keenly.  For  the  sisters  now  were 
comparatively  if  not  almost  actually  poor.  Life 
becomes  very  irksome  in  a  Devonshire  fishing 
village  after  successive  seasons  of  luxury  in  Lon- 
don. There  would  be  escape  from  the  utter 
dullness  and  the  boredom  of  it  all — whenever 
Gwen  chose  to  countersign  his  check  book. 


THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY 

Society  forgets  quickly.  Girl  friends  who  write 
effusively  at  first  soon  find  that  they  have  no  time 
for  a  regular  correspondence.  Interests  flag. 
Ferrers  knew  it.  Eternally  fine  summers,  the  ach- 
ing sea,  the  little  fishing  boats,  the  quaint  old 
church,  no  friends,  a  dreary  round  of  drowsy 
monotony  with  no  companion  but  a  fretful  invalid, 
no  relaxation  but  a  twice  read  book — till  Ferrers 
came  from  London,  smiling,  bringing  this  and 
that,  a  charming  present,  news  of  town — gossip  of 
the  world — a  ray  of  sunlight  and  a  breath  of  Life. 

One  day  he  would  ask  her  to  come  back  to 
Life. 

Young,  a  girl,  and  mortal — would  she  refuse? 

He  thought  not. 

But  there  was  no  need  for  haste.  Besides,  he 
realized  that  Gwen's  love  for  Dorian  was  real 
and  deep.  He  read  it  in  her  eyes,  in  every  tender 
note  of  the  pitiful  young  voice — that  echoed  her 
heart's  misery. 

Therefore  there  was  need  for  waiting. 

So  the  weeks  slipped  by  and  as  Marion  re- 
covered something  of  physical  health  she  was  the 
first  to  weary  of  her  surroundings.  She  had  no 


THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY          211 

intellectual  resources.  Unconsciously  Gwen's  pale 
face  was  a  perpetual  mute  reproach — her  slight 
somberly  clad  figure  a  memorial  to  a  dead  man's 
devotion.  Her  thoughts,  Marion  knew,  were 
with  that  dead  man  always,  and  his  name  was 
daily  on  her  lips.  If  Marion  had  been  made  of 
finer  metal  the  refinement  of  an  hourly  torture 
would  have  been  maddening.  In  her  case  it 
fretted  till  she  almost  pitied  herself  and  began 
to  resent  her  mental  miseries.  Morris  was  out 
of  danger,  and  she  was  no  longer  in  it.  The  idea 
of  penance,  penitence,  or  reparation  never  oc- 
curred to  her.  Having  lived  as  her  class  lived 
she  had  been  unlucky,  and  ultimately  the  victim 
of  misfortune.  She  hardly  blamed  herself  for 
anything  she  had  done.  If  she  only  had  more 
money  and  Ferrers  would  cease  his  importunities, 
she  could  begin  to  be  happy  again — and  go  back 
to  town— back  to  the  Society  which  was  the  end 
and  the  beginning  of  her  existence. 

Ferrers  had  consequently  had  rare  need  for 
threats,  or  pressure.  She  lent  herself  readily  to 
his  wishes.  He  ingeniously  imagined  some  little 
speculations  on  the  Stock  Exchange  and  sent  her 


212          THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY 

from  time  to  time  small,  but  very  welcome,  checks. 
Quite  willingly  she  acquiesced  to  his  suggestion 
that  she  should  write  to  the  Duchess  saying  that 
he  and  Gwen  were  much  together,  and  that  really 
a  wealthy  marriage  would  be  quite  the  best  cure 
for  the  dear  child's  melancholy.  Already  there 
were  signs  of  improvement.  As  Ferrers  expected, 
the  Duchess  bluntly  asked  him  in  public  if  she 
was  to  congratulate?  With  well  affected  con- 
fusion he  had  replied,  not  yet — at  least  not  for 
certain — he  could  not  hope  for  too  much  luck  all 
at  once,  and  so  on.  Naturally  people  talked  and 
soon  afterwards  a  paragraph  followed  in  the 
Gossip  column  of  The  Dais,  which  mentioned 
Ferrers  by  name,  and  alluded  to  Gwen  in  terms 
which  left  no  doubt  as  to  her  identity  for  all  those 
who  knew  anything  of  her  set.  Marion  was 
careful  to  keep  The  Dais  out  of  sight,  but  one 
or  two  friends  wrote  to  Gwen  whose  disclaimers 
were  attributed  to  decorous  modesty.  But  they 
opened  the  way  for  occasional  discussions  on  the 
subject  between  Marion  and  Gwen,  who  could 
not  but  admit  the  unvarying  and  unwavering 
thoughtfulness  and  kindliness  of  Ferrers.  Her 


THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY          213 

positive  and  active  dislike  for  him  had  cer- 
tainly gone,  but  beyond  that  she  could  say 
nothing. 

As  evening  fell  she  used  to  stretch  her  tiny 
hand  out  towards  the  sea,  saying  with  a  piteous 
little  sob,  "My  heart  is  there — for  ever — it  will 
never  be  mine  again,  to  give  to  anyone  1" 

When  Marion  impatiently  told  Ferrers,  he 
only  smiled  and  said,  "Time  does  wonderful 
things  occasionally." 

Time  did. 

In  time  it  happened  that  one  day  when  he 
came  down  from  town  he  found  himself  smoking 
a  cigarette  in  Marion's  garden  and  waiting  till 
the  sisters  should  return  from  a  stroll  across  the 
tall  red  Cliffs.  He  looked  abstractedly  at  the 
sea,  blew  a  cloud  of  heavy  aromatic  smoke  and 
wondered  how  long  he  would  have  to  wait — for 
more  than  one  thing  in  this  World.  The  path 
was  clear,  quite  clear  at  last,  but  the  climb  was 
very  slow,  .  .  .  like  the  climb  up  the  road  from 
the  village  .  .  .  along  which  the  old  asthmatical 
postman  was  trudging  painfully. 

Ferrers  watched  him  stop  at  a  cottage  here 


214         THE  SINS  OF   SOCIETY 

and  there  .  .  .  leaning  over  this  gate  .  .  . 
chatting  at  that  ...  he  did  not  hasten  with  his 
missives,  even  if  they  carried  news  of  life  or  death 
...  he  plodded  ®n  steadily  ...  as  Ferrers 
must  ...  to  reach  a  certain  end. 

Certain? 

Ferrers  smiled.  It  was  a  long  road,  but  there 
were  no  obstacles  now.  None 

The  Postman  stopped  and  touched  his  hat. 
Ferrers  went  forward,  and  the  old  man  handed 
over  the  wicket  the  letters  for  the  house — paused 
for  a  brief  space  to  wheeze  and  pant  about  the 
weather — then  touched  his  hat  and  plodded  on 
.  .  .  and  Ferrers  gazed  aimlessly  at  the  corre- 
spondence .  .  .  some  gorgeous  highly  gilded  cir- 
culars .  .  .  Ferrers  wondered  why  elaborate, 
costly,  and  profusely  decorated  circulars  offering 
Motor  Cars  at  Two  Thousand  Guineas  a  piece 
are  sent  constantly  in  large  numbers  to  people 
who  can't  afford  to  purchase  a  perambulator! 
...  a  bill  ...  a  lawyer's  letter  .  .  .  two  notes 
sealed  with  colored  wax,  impressed,  one  by  a 
coronet,  the  other  by  some  fanciful  signet  .  .  . 
two  letters  from  Abroad,  one  of  them  for  Gwen 


THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY          215, 

.  .  .  from  Abroad  .  .  .  from  whom?  ...  he 
looked  at  the  stamps  more  closely  .  .  .  they  were 
identical  .  .  .  A — R — G —  .  .  .  Argentina  .  .  . 
South  America  .  .  .  and  the  Post  Mark  "Buenos 
Ayres"  ...  he  h-ad  never  heard  Gwen  speak  of 
anyone  likely  to  write  from  .  .  .  yet  somehow 
the  hand  writing,  the  same  upon  each  envelope, 
did  not  seem  quite  unfamiliar  ...  a  man's  hand, 
flowing,  bold,  and  strong  ...  a  man's  .  .  . 
where  had  he  seen  .  .  .  who  was  it  wrote  .  .  . 
Great  God!— DORIAN  MARCH  ! 

Alive? 

No.  Impossible.  Written  no  doubt  on  the 
"Beachy  Head,"  picked  up  at  Sea  in  some  strange 
place  and  posted  by  a  kindly  rescuer.  A  weird 
uncanny  Message  from  the  Dead.  Marion  had 
better  see  it  before  Gwen  was  told 

He  put  the  two  letters  in  his  pocket  and  placed 
the  others  on  a  garden  table,  thought  for  a  mo- 
ment, then  took  out  the  two  envelopes  and  looked 
at  them  again  very  carefully. 

They  were  not  soiled  or  water  stained. 

They  were  not  enclosed,  as  they  well  might 
have  been,  with  any  note  of  explanation. 


216          THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY 

There  was  no  inscription  "found  at  Sea"  or 
anything  like  that. 

The  envelope  bore  no  Ship's  monogram. 

The  paper  did  not  seem  to  be  of  English 
manufacture  or  of  the  sort  used  in  this  country. 

Ferrers  noted  curiously  that  they  were  both 
addressed  to  Windsor — redirected  to  the  now 
let  Town  house — sent  to  Marion's  Solicitor — and 
by  him  posted  on.  All  this  had  involved  at  least 
a  week's  delay  in  their  delivery. 

And  now — ? 

Was  the  heart  of  Gwen  to  be  wrung  all  over 
again  as  it  would  not  have  been  if  the  letters 
had  never  arrived  at  all? 

Would  it  not  be  almost  merciful  to  throw  them 
into  the  fire?  Why  harrow  Marion,  why  torture 
Gwen  by  vividly  reawaking  memories,  .  .  .  only, 
the  thought  came  like  a  flash,  why  had  Dorian 
written  at  all?  It  was  a  madly  dangerous  thing 
to  have  done  under  the  circumstances — if  the  letter 
had  gone  astray — if  Morris  had  died — surely  he 
must  have  had  some  strong,  some  overwhelming 
motive? 

Would  it  affect  his  own  plans  in  any  way? 


THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY          217 

Would  it  be  safe  to  let  Marion  read — women  are 
so  emotional — until  he  had  read  first. 

If  he  opened  her  letter,  what  could  she  do! 
The  Blue  Scarab  had  made  him  her  Master. 

He  went  to  the  gate  and  looked  right  and 
left  up  and  down  the  road.  There  was  no  sign 
of  the  sisters.  He  glanced  at  the  house,  and 
turned  his  back  to  it  while  his  fingers  crept  into 
the  crisp  crackling  envelope — tore  harshly — 
plucked  for  its  contents — opened  stealthily — and 
read.  .  .  . 

"Marion"  .  .  .  there  was  a  date,  but  no 
address  .  .  .  "for  Gwen's  sake,  to  save  you  and 
to  save  your  name,  I  have  been  content  to  let 
the  World  think  that  I  died  at  sea  when  the 
Beachy  Head  went  down.  It  was  agony  to  let 
Gwen  think  it,  but  I  feared  to  communicate  in 
any  way  till  I  knew  whether  that  man  Morris 
lived.  Apart  from  that  I  had  no  chance  for 
many  days.  Heaven  only  knows  how  I  struggled 
out  of  the  ghastly  fight  for  life  among  the  drown- 
ing men  when  the  Transport  sank — all  around  I 
heard  despairing  prayers  and  curses — more  than 
once  I  was  compelled  to  dive  to  shake  off  some 


2i8         THE  SINS  OF  SOCIETY 

poor  wretch's  strangling  hands — a  drifting  spar 
struck  me  in  the  darkness  and  nearly  sent  me 
under,  but  it  saved  me  after,  for  I  clung  to  it  till 
dawn,  when  the  fog  lifted,  but  our  boats  were 
out  of  sight. 

Clinging  for  hours  without  food  or  water,  and 
I  knew  my  strength  must  fail,  I  almost  wished 
that  I  had  perished  with  the  others — indeed 
when  a  small  sailing  ship  hove  in  sight,  I  could 
neither  cry  out,  nor  raise  a  hand  for  help.  By 
good  luck  a  shift  of  wind  brought  her  course 
quite  near  me.  I  was  seen  from  the  deck,  a  boat 
was  lowered  and  I  was  hauled  on  board — nearly 
insensible.  The  Ship  I  found  was  Spanish,  bound 
for  Buenos  Ayres  with  a  cargo  of  iron  rails, 
making,  therefore,  a  slow  voyage  and  touching 
nowhere.  I  could  not  understand  the  crew,  but 
the  Captain  spoke  a  little  French.  I  gave  the 
name  of  a  poor  devil  I  had  seen  go  down  at  my 
side — said  I  was  a  common  soldier  so  that  he 
should  take  little  interest  in  my  doings  when  we 
came  to  land.  Having  no  money  I  paid  for  my 
passage  as  best  I  could  by  work,  for  long  weary 
weeks  when  adverse  winds  drove  us  from  our 


,1'HE  SINS  OF  SOCIETY 

course,  and  we  broiled  in  the  endless  calms  of  the 
tropics.  But  we  reached  harbor  at  last,  and  I 
went  ashore  tanned  like  a  red  Indian,  with  a 
sprouting  beard,  dressed  in  the  rough  rags  they 
had  given  me — not  fearing  recognition  from  my 
dearest  friend.  For  a  week  I  worked  as  a  dock 
hand,  fretting  every  hour  for  news  from  home, 
wondering  hopelessly  how  I  could  get  it. 

One  day  passing  the  Office  of  a  big  newspaper 
I  saw  a  notice  "Wanted — a  Porter."  The  natives 
here  are  lazy  beyond  speech  and  all  the  best  work 
is  done  by  Americans  and  Scotch,  with  a  few 
English.  So  I  got  the  job  at  once  when  I  applied 
for  it.  I  was  afraid  to  seem  too  anxious,  but 
presently  when  they  got  accustomed  to  me  I  asked 
leave  to  see  occasional  English  papers.  I  found 
that  they  kept  the  Times  filed  for  reference,  and 
hunting  through  it  I  found,  thank  God,  that 
Morris  had  recovered  and  was  out  of  danger. 
There  is  no  possible  charge  of  murder  now  hang-* 
ing  over  anyone's  head,  as  it  once  hung  over  mine, 
as  it  would  have  hung  over  yours  if  I  had  not 
kept  silence  for  your  sake.  If  the  worst  had 
Happened  I  might  have  kept  silence  to  the  end, 


220 

for  Gwen's  sake,  for,  Marion,  it  is  hopeless  to 
deny  what  you  alone  must  have  done.  God  for- 
give you,  what  madness  possessed  you? 

I  thanked  God  that  the  danger  had  passed; 
and  then  my  first  thought  was  to  write  and  insist 
on  Morris  being  paid,  and  there  being  some 
possibility  of  my  return,  but  turning  over  the  old 
English  papers  I  came  on  a  chance  copy  of  The 
Dais.  There  I  read  what  you  know  was  written. 

The  name  of  Noel  Ferrers  linked  clearly  with 
Gwen. 

If  I  can  stop  it  that  shall  never  be.  Sooner 
than  see  it  I  will  tell  Gwen  the  truth — the  whole 
truth — and  if  need  be,  the  whole  world,  too.  I 
have  not  done  it  yet.  I  have  written  to  tell  her 
as  I  tell  you  that  to  prevent  her  marriage  I  am 
coming  home — to  face  anything.  If  what  I  read 
is  true  I  will  swear  that  she  is  not  doing  it  of 
her  own  free  will.  I  hold  you  to  blame.  You, 
and  only  you. 

So  I  warn  you,  see  Morris,  pay  him,  make 
yourself  safe  while  there  is  time.  I  have  signed 
on  as  Deck  Steward  of  a  Plymouth  Boat  and 
about  the  time  this  reaches  you  I  shall  have  sailed 


THE  SINS   OF  SOCIETY         221 

— it  is  the  earliest  chance  I  can  get  of  working 
my  way  home.  If  Gwen  is  true,  as  I  know  she  is, 
when  she  gets  my  letter  she  will  wait  for  me — 
if  she  does  not,  at  least  I  will  clear  my  name. 
If  I  have  lost  her  it  was  through  my  sacrifice  for 
her  sake. 

If  you  have  any  gratitude  for  that  sacrifice 
you  will  add  your  words  to  mine  to  save  the  girl 
I  love,  your  own  flesh  and  blood,  from  what  I 
know  must  be  an  utterly  loveless  marriage.  It 
is  a  marriage  that  will  only  break  Gwen's  heart 
in  the  end.  Haven't  you  made  misery  enough  in 
your  life  already." 

There  were  some  pages  more  of  passionate 
protest,  but  Ferrers  only  glanced  at  these.  He 
did  not  open  Gwen's  letter  at  all.  He  made  a 
careful  note  of  the  date  of  posting  on  his  shirt 
cuff  and  read  the  phrase  again  "about  the  time 
this  reaches  you  I  shall  have  sailed."  Reposting 
had  delayed  the  delivery  of  the  letter  for  a  week. 
Dorian  therefore  was  in  all  human  probability 
already  on  the  high  seas.  It  was  too  late  for  the 
Police  to  cable  for  his  arrest  at  Buenos  Ayres.  He 
did  not  say  by  what  boat  he  was  coming  or  under 


222          THE   SINS  OF   SOCIETY 

what  name  he  had  signed.  To  intercept  him  was 
practically  impossible.  Plymouth  was  the  only 
clue.  But  many  boats  touch  at  Plymouth.  Be- 
sides, after  all,  his  arrest  mattered  very  little  to 
Noel  Ferrers.  His  arrest  would  only  proclaim 
on  the  house-top  the  fact  that  he  was  alive. 
Directly  Gwen  knew  that  he  was  alive  there  would 
be  an  end  to  the  hopes  of  Ferrers.  He  realized 
that  completely.  Whatever  he  did  must  be  done 
before  Dorian  returned.  A  quick  run  from 
Buenos  Ayres  takes  about  six  weeks.  One  had 
already  gone.  He  had  just  five  weeks — five  clear 
weeks — in  hand,  for  having  already  started,  no 
letter  that  Dorian  could  post  would  anticipate 
his  own  arrival. 

Five  weeks. 

Noel  Ferrers  set  his  teeth  and  made  up  his 
mind.  Then  he  struck  a  match,  lit  a  cigarette 
and — in  a  few  seconds  the  letters  of  Dorian 
March  flamed  and  blew  over  the  close-cropped 
grass  of  the  soft  green  lawn  in  a  feathery  spray 
pf  gray-white  ashes.  They  clung  to  Gwen's  skirt 
as  she  came  in  at  the  gate,  then  fell  away  and 
were  crushed  to  nothingness  under  her  small 


THE  SINS  OF  SOCIETY!         223 

arched  foot.  Ferrers  saw  and  smiled.  It  was  a 
good  omen.  But  her  manner  was  ever  the  same 
,'  — frank,  but  never  quite  unrestrained.  He  had 
brought  down  a  book  she  especially  wanted,  new 
music,  and  some  of  her  favorite  scent — she  seemed 
genuinely  pleased, — but  there  was  a  wall  between 
them.  He  had  meant,  with  infinite  patience,  to 
scale  it. 

There  was  no  longer  time  for  that. 

He  must  force  a  breach. 

His  resolution  once  formed  he  went  straight 
to  the  attack. 

"Gwen  dear,"  he  said — it  had  come  to  that 
at  length,  not  a  familiar,  but  a  sympathetic 
fatherly  "Gwen  dear"— "I  want  to  talk  over  a 
little  business  with  your  sister — nothing  very 
important — but  would  you  leave  us  for  five 
minutes?" 

Gathering  the  book  and  packages  Gwen  went 
into  the  house.  Marion  looked  rather  anxiously 
at  Ferrers. 

"Business — ?"  she  said. 

"Purely  personal,"  he  answered.  "I  want  your 
help." 


224         THE   SINS  OF  SOCIETY, 

"You  know-" 

"I  am  tired  of  waiting." 

"What  for?" 

"Gwen." 

"Gwen — ?  I — you  know  what  I  wish — I — I've 
told  you — but  what  can  I  do?" 

"Consent  to  our  marriage.  And  tell  her  to  do 
the  same." 

"I  have  tried  all  I  could — indirectly." 

"Put  it  plainly  then." 

"She  would  only  refuse — " 

"Put  it  plainer  still." 

"Plainer—?" 

"Tell  her,"  he  said  slowly,  "that  tKe  Po- 
lice have  not  yet  found  the  owner  of  the  Blue 
Scarab.  That  if  she  does  not  marry  me,  they 
will." 

"Good  God-!" 

"Tell  her  that  you  sent  Dorian  March  to  his 
grave — does  she  know  it?" 

"No,  nol" 

"Then  tell  her— or  shall  I?" 

"I  implore — " 

" — precisely  what  I  am  doing.    I  implore  you 


THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY          225 

to  invent  any  lie  you  like,  and  tell  it  to  her  at 
once — " 

"That  you  tempted  me — you  told  me — you 
showed  me  the  way — you  threatened  me — 
drove  me — " 

"If  you  wish  it,  certainly.  Only  remember 
that  you  can't  prove  what  you  say.  If  I  start 
talking — I  can.  And  what  is  more,  I  will.  I 
don't  care  a  fig  what  happens  after.  I  would 
die  for  Gwen.  I  would  go  to  Gaol  for  her.  I 
would  go  to  Hell  for  her.  There  is  only  one 
thing  I  won't  do  for  her — I  won't  give  her  up." 
"I  know,  and — and  I  am  sure  in  time — " 
"In  a  month.  That's  the  limit  of  time."  He 
glanced  at  the  date  scribbled  on  his  cuff.  "In  a 
month  she  must  be  my  wife — or  you  must  stand 
in  the  Dock.  Whichever  you  like.  I  am  be- 
ginning to  feel  that  I  have  no  preference.  Take 
your  choice." 

"When — when  you  visit  us  again,  I — " 
"No.     Now.     As  I  told  you  I  am  tired  of 
waiting." 

"Give  me  time  to  think !    A  day — " 

"Not  an  hour.    Nothing  like  facing  the  music, 


226         THE   SINS  OF  SOCIETY 

taking  the  plunge  and  getting  it  over — as  you  did 
with  Morris — nothing  venture,  you  know." 

"Great  Heaven,  what  can  I  say  to  her." 

"Say  Morris  must  be  paid,  or  something  dread- 
ful will  happen — don't  go  into  details — say  you 
can't  get  the  money  from  anyone  but  me — say, 
put  it  as  nicely  as  you  can,  that  I  have  my  price. 
She  must  consent." 

"To  be  engaged — " 

"No.  Married — Westminster  Abbey  or  the 
Village  Church,  I  don't  care  which,  but  married, 
publicly,  legally,  absolutely,  married  to  me — be- 
fore the  month's  over." 

A  deep  sob  was  the  only  answer. 

"I  am  going  down  to  the  village  to  send  a 
telegram.  Shall  I  send  another  to  the  Detectives 
at  Scotland  Yard,  or  will  she  give  me  my  answer 
when  I  come  back." 

"I  will  try — I  can  only  try — " 

"Of  course.  Only  try  hard,  won't  you?  Re- 
member how  much  depends  on  it  for  me — and 
for  yourself!  I  shan't  be  long." 

Dominant,  resolute,  with  his  savage  jaw  set 
firm,  the  big  man  crunched  heavily  over  the 


THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY          227 

gravel  and  swung  away  down  the  steep  winding 
road. 

Coming  to  the  window  Gwen  looked  after 
him,  then  glancing  at  the  garden  saw  Marion, 
with  her  face  buried  in  her  hands.  Instantly  she 
called  to  her,  and  in  a  moment  more  was  kneeling 
at  her  side. 

"Dearest,  dearest,"  she  cried,  "what  is  it? 
Bad  news?  Never  mind,  whatever  it  is,  tell 
me." 

For  some  minutes  the  dazed  and  frightened 
woman  could  not  find  her  speech.  She  could 
only  sob  and  moan,  and  sob  again,  till  the  child 
cried  once  more,  "Marion,  dearest,  O  don't,  don't 
— speak  to  me — you  frighten  me  I" 

"I — I  must  do  more  than  that,"  came  the 
slow,  broken  answer.  "I  must  make  you  hate 
me." 

"Dearest — never — " 

"Never?  Suppose  I  told  you  that  I  had  done 
something  very  wrong,  very  wicked,  about — about 
that  man  Morris  and — " 

"The  jewels?" 

"Yes,  suppose  I  told  you  Dorian  Knew  and 


228          THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY 

tried — tried  to  save  me.  Suppose  I  told  you  that 
somebody  still  knew  the  truth — " 

"Morris!" 

" — Somebody,  and  that  only  money,  a  very, 
very  large  sum  would  buy  his  silence.  Suppose — 
suppose  only  one  person  in  the  world  would  lend 
it — give  it  to  me — " 

"Mr.  Ferrers?" 

"And  he  only  at  a  price." 

"Price?" 

"Yes.  If  that  were  true  would  you  do  what 
Dorian  did?" 

"Dorian  ..." 

"Save  me!" 

"At  .  .  .  what  .  .  .  price  .  .  .   ?" 

"Noel  Ferrers  loves  you  very  truly — believe 
me — very  tenderly,  very  dearly  .  .  .  ' 

"And  for  my  sake  he  will  give  you  the 
money  .  .  .  ?" 

"He  would  ...  if  ...  if  you  were  his  ... 
wife." 

She  did  not  dare  look  up  and  face  the  mute 
anguish  in  the  child's  eyes.  She  could  only  moan 
on,  "No,  no — you  can't,  I  know — it's  impossible — 


THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY          229 

what  does  it  matter — gaol,  dishonor,  anything  but 
not  that, — it  would  soon  kill  me,  the  utter  shame, 
the  disgrace  .  .  .  ' 

The  little  hand  closed  gently  on  her  shoulder 
— the  small,  sweet,  tender  voice  sounded  far,  far 
away — like  the  echo  of  an  angel's  sob. 

"What  does  it  matter!  .  .  .  Dorian  is  dead! 
.  .  .  still  I  can  do  his  work  ...  if  I  can  save 
you  ...  as  he  would  .../...  will." 

They  sat  together,  silent,  till  the  gate  clicked 
softly  and  the  tall  shadow  fell  across  the 
grass. 

No  one  spoke  for  a  little  while.  Then  Noel 
Ferrers  said  quietly: 

"Have  I  my  answer?" 

Gwen  rose  slowly  with  the  old  familiar  gesture 
— the  one  small  hand  stretched  out  towards  the 
Sea. 

"You  know  where  my  heart  is,"  she  answered 
softly,  "I  can  never  give  you  that.  But  for  her 
sake,  if  you  will  save  her — I — I — will  be  your 
wife." 

"And  by  God,  Gwen,  I'll  make  you  a  good 
husband  I" 


230         THE   SINS  OF  SOCIETY 

His  voice  rang  defiantly — it  was  the  impious 
protest  of  a  triumphant  devil, — as  he  stretched 
forward  to  take  her  in  his  arms ! 

She  shrank  back  .  .  .  "Please— !" 

.  .  .  Sweetly  on  the  Summer  wind  came  the 
chimes  for  Even  Song.  She  motioned  him  to  let 
her  pass. 

"I — I  want  to  go  there,"  she  faltered. 

"—Where?" 

"Where  those  Bells  call  me — where  I  can 
ask  for  help — and  know  that  I  shall  find 
it." 

Marion  rose. 

"Let  me  come  with  you,  dear  one." 

"No.  Please.  Not  now — let  me  go — there — 
alone." 

Slowly  she  passed  out  of  the  garden. 

The  two  stood  watching  till  she  was  out  of 
sight  while  the  mellow  Bells  rang  on. 

"In  a  month's  time  they  will  peal  for  us,"  said 
Noel  Ferrers  smiling. 

All  the  brute  in  his  nature  gleamed  in  his  face. 
Marion  Beaumont  saw,  and  for  once  all  the 
wrong  that  she  had  done  stood  UJD  before  her 


THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY          231 

eyes,  and  horror  of  the  culminating  sacrifice 
stabbed  at  her  shallow  heart. 

Still  the  Bells  chimed. 

"In  a  month's  time — may  they  toll  for  me!" 
she  cried  as  she  buried  her  face  in  shame  between 
her  hands. 


CHAPTER  IX 
"HASTE! — TO  THE  WEDDING?" 

ON  half  a  dozen  different  pretexts  Noel 
Ferrers  called  at  the  Offices  of  the  British 
Shipping  Company  in  Fenchurch  Street,  City, 
and  upon  the  information  that  he  obtained  there 
he  came  to  the  conclusion  that  Dorian  March 
was  returning  by  S.  S.  Magdala. 

The  date  of  her  sailing  seemed  to  coincide 
exactly  with  what  Dorian  had  said,  and  if  this 
was  so,  Ferrers  began  to  fear  that  things  were 
being  drawn  rather  fine.  She  was  a  good  old 
boat,  rather  more  heavily  sparred,  and  conse- 
quently spreading  a  rather  larger  sail  area,  than 
is  customary  in  these  days.  With  a  following 
gale  under  her  stern  she  had  made  some  wonder- 
ful passages.  If  she  repeated  her  best  there 


THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY          233 

seemed  a  chance  of  Dorian  landing  on  Gwen's 
Wedding  Day. 

If  she  did  better—? 

Ferrers  realized  that  his  chance  of  winning 
Gwen  would  finally  hang  on  the  turn  of  an  hour. 
If  Dorian  were  arrested  at  Sea,  the  news  would 
flash  to  the  shore,  all  the  world  would  know 
it,  immediately — and  there  would  be  no  mar- 
riage. 

If  Dorian  landed  free,  he  would  probably  wire 
to  Gwen  at  once.  Again  there  would  be  no  mar- 
riage. But  if  he  landed  half  a  day  too  soon,  and 
were  instantly  arrested,  the  time  occupied  in  con- 
veying him  to  London,  charging  him  before  a 
Magistrate  and  so  on,  might  be  vital  to  Ferrers. 
Down  in  remote  Devonshire  Gwen  might  hear 
nothing  until  it  was  much  too  late. 

Noel  Ferrers  therefore  saw  to  it  that  the  Police 
had  all  the  information  that  they  needed,  and  that 
their  arrangements  were  thorough  and  complete. 
He  took  extra  pains  because  from  time  to  time 
his  mind  had  been  disturbed  by  anxious  specula- 
tion concerning  Dorian's  reason  for  saying  "I 
shall  land  at  Plymouth."  Why  Plymouth? 


234         THE  SINS  OF  SOCIETY* 

Ferrers  searched  carefully  through  a  file  of  The 
Dais  and  found  the  paragraph  hinting  at  his  en- 
gagement to  Gwen.  It  followed  upon  another 
referring  to  the  health  of  Lady  Marion  Beau- 
mont and  her  rest  cure,  which  might  be  protracted, 
at  the  "quaintly  sweet  old  world  village  of 
Mothercombe,  in  South  Devon." 

Had  Dorian  seen  this? 

The  paragraph  named  no  place  of  residence, 
so  Dorian  had  written  to  London — that  he  knew 
would  find  Marion  for  a  certainty.  But  when  he 
landed  would  he  go  to  Mothercombe? 

That  was  the  problem — the  contingency  against 
which  Noel  Ferrers  took  every  possible 
precaution. 

As  time  went  on  his  anxiety  increased  and  he 
made  one  determined  endeavor  to  raise  the  ques- 
tion of  a  Wedding  at  an  earlier  date.  He  went 
down  to  Devonshire,  especially,  and  to  Marion 
he  gave  excellent  business  reasons  for  wishing  to 
be  "back  home"  at  a  certain  period — and  Marion 
threw  out  hints  to  Gwen.  They  were  not  well 
received,  however,  indeed  Marion  confessed 
frankly  that  she  feared  at  any  moment  a  revulsion 


THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY          235 

of  feeling  on  the  girl's  part — any  pressure,  any; 
haste,  any  undue  emphasis  on  the  loveless  side  of 
the  marriage  might  induce  her  to  withdraw  from 
it  altogether. 

For  Marion's  sake  she  had  promised  to  go 
through  with  it — but  the  highest  courage,  like 
the  finest  steel,  has  its  breaking  point.  Gwen 
was  not  selling  herself,  she  was  giving  her  self  for 
Marion's — it  was  not  safe  to  speak  too  loudly  of 
the  price  and  the  hour  of  the  sacrifice. 

Ferrers,  sitting  in  the  Up  Express,  stopped 
gnawing  his  nails  and  ground  his  teeth,  as  the 
train  passing  Dawlish  suddenly  roared  out  of 
a  cutting,  and  rattled  along  close  to  the  edge  of 
the  sea.  Half  a  gale  was  blowing,  and  the  spray 
flew  in  diamond  clouds  around  the  weird  and 
rugged  shapes  of  the  strange  sentinel-like  red 
rocks.  On  the  near  horizon  a  full  rigged  ship; 
carrying  all  the  canvas  that  she  dared  tore  along 
up  channel,  in  the  full  glare  of  the  noonday  Sun, 
like  a  pyramid  of  snow. 

Was  the  "Magdala"  doing  anything  like  that 
— racing  home — beating  her  own  record? 

If  a  burst  of  lip  blistering  profanity  could  have 


236          THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY 

sunk  her  she  would  have  gone  to  the  bottom  then 
and  there ! 


The  Fashion  Editor  of  The  Dais  thrilled  with 
pardonable  pride  when  he  officially  announced 
that  the  event  "first  foreshadowed"  in  his  columns 
was  an  accomplished  fact.  "A  Marriage  has  been 
arranged  and  will  shortly  take  place  between  Lady 
Gwendolin  Ashley  and  Mr.  Noel  Ferrers." 

There  followed  a  portrait  of  Gwen,  "an 
appreciation,"  and  an  outline  of  her  Family 
History.  Ferrers  was  described  as  a  distinguished 
ornament  of  the  Haut  Finance,  a  popular  owner 
of  horses,  and  a  favorite  in  Society.  A  graceful 
allusion  was  made  to  the  "obvious  attachment 
of  many  months,"  and  the  inspiring  influence  of 
real  "love  matches." 

When  Lady  Goldbury's  eye  caught  the  con- 
cluding phrase  she  pitched  the  paper  into  the 
corner  of  the  room,  and  promptly  wrote  to  Gwen. 
She  did  not  and  she  would  not  believe  what  she 
had  read. 

Two  days  later  she  left  Monte   Carlo   and 


THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY          237 

found    an    answer    waiting    for    her    in    Paris. 

Then  she  came  home  in  a  bad  temper  and  worse 
weather.  She  dined  alone,  and  did  not  sleep  well. 
She  got  up  early  and  fumed  till  she  suddenly  made 
up  her  mind  to  pour  out  her  annoyance  on  some- 
one before  going  into  the  City — and,  as  was  her 
custom  after  returning  from  a  trip  abroad,  she 
took  her  jewelry  with  her  to  replace  it  in  her  own 
Bank  Safe. 

Thus,  angry  and  encumbered,  she  drove  off  to 
the  spacious  Flat  of  James  Hogg,  in  Cavendish 
Square. 

As  the  days  flew  by  she  had  come  to  like  Hogg 
more — and  Society  less. 

One  was  genuine.  The  other  was  not.  And 
the  more  she  showed  her  liking,  the  harder  he 
worked  to  secure  her  regard.  Morning  after 
morning  he  broke  a  variety  of  niblicks,  drivers, 
and  other  valuable  clubs,  while  learning  Golf  in 
the  curious  cat-wired  School  at  the  Botanic  Gar- 
dens. He  sweated  on  a  'cycle,  and  bumped  on 
a  cob.  When  the  season  waned  and  boating 
became  impossible  he  had  mechanical  gymnastic 
contrivances  fitted  up  in  his  Library,  among  them 


238          THE   SINS  OF   SOCIETY. 

being  an  arrangement  like  the  sliding  seat  and 
sculls  of  an  outrigger,  which  he  vigorously  worked 
while  his  valet  with  a  stop  watch  timed  his  per- 
formance. 

His  costume  for  this  last  endeavor  was  always 
accurate — bare  kneed,  bare  armed,  and  generally 
abbreviated. 

Not  knowing  that  Lady  Goldbury  had  returned 
from  the  Continent,  and  little  dreaming  that  her 
electric  landaulette  was  hastening  to  his  door,  he 
sat  and  slid,  tugging  at  the  imitation  oars  while 
the  faithful  Williams  counted  his  strokes  .  .  . 
Twenty-nine  .  .  .  Thirty  .  .  .  Thirty-one  .  .  . 
Thirty-two  .  .  .  spurt!  .  .  .  one !  two !  three ! 
four!  .  .  .  and  he  quickened  up  with  the  set 
determination  of  an  Oxford  Stroke  till  the  well- 
trained  valet  clicked  the  watch  and,  in  the  author- 
itative tones  of  a  'Varsity  coach,  ordered  "hease 
all." 

Hogg  hung  over  the  scull  handles  breathless, 
sucking  a  piece  of  lemon,  and  sponging  the  back 
of  his  head. 

"How — how  have  I  done,  Williams?"  he 
panted. 


THE  SINS   OF   SOCIETY          239 

Williams  looked  at  the  watch  solemnly  and 
shook  his  head. 

"Hindifferent,  sir." 

"Not  up  to  yesterday?" 

"No,  sir.  First  'alf  mile  in  particular — very 
shaky." 

"Yes — I — er — I'm  afraid  I  was  a  little  late  at 
the  Eccentric  Club  last  night — I  mustn't  do  it — • 
here,  give  me  a  hand  with  the  leg  developer,  and 
I'll  finish  for  this  morning." 

The  Leg  and  Arm  Muscle  developer  is  simply 
a  long  box  standing  on  its  end  and  screwed  to  the 
wall.  Inside  the  box  are  various  weights.  To 
these  cords  are  attached  which  come  out  at 
the  top  of  the  box.  When  you  pull  down 
the  handle  at  the  end  of  the  cord  you 
pull  up  the  weight — which  in  its  turn  pulls 
back  at  you. 

Close  to  the  machine  Hogg  lay  down  flat  on  his 
back.  Williams  firmly  buckled  to  his  ankle  a 
cord,  the  weight  at  the  end  of  which  drew  his  foot 
sharply  into  the  air  at  right  angles  to  his  body. 
Hogg  had  to  move  his  leg  out  and  down  like  the 
hand  of  a  clock  till  he  drew  the  weight  up  again; 


24o          THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY 

simultaneously,  with  his  hands  he  raised  and  low- 
ered two  dumb-bells. 

The  number  of  times  that  these  actions  were 
repeated  had  to  be  carefully  counted.  This  was 
part  of  "the  System" — guaranteed  to  give 
"symmetry  and  suppleness  to  the  limbs,  grace  and 
elasticity  to  the  walk."  Solemnly,  and  without 
the  vestige  of  a  smile,  Williams  counted  as  the 
leg  came  down  and  the  arms  went  up.  Heavily 
Hogg  panted  and  strove.  Nobly  he  stuck  to  his 
task.  Slowly  the  numbers  rose — when  the  electric 
bell  thrilled  loudly! 

"If  that's  my  tailor,"  gasped  Hogg,  "show 
him  in — that  last  frock  coat  was  a  crime  without 
the  benefit  of  clergy — I'll  talk  to  him  .  .  . 
fourteen  .  .  .  fifteen  .  .  ." 

Williams  vanished. 

.  .  .  sixteen  .  .  seventeen  .  .  .  eighteen  .  .  . 

A  door  slammed — a  silk  skirt  rustled  in  the 
passage — quick  imperative  footsteps  burst  into 
the  adjoining  drawing-room — Williams  flying 
before  them  had  barely  time  to  hurl  himself  into 
the  Gymnasium-Library  exclaiming  "Lady  Gold- 
bury!"  when  her  sharp  little  knuckles  rapped  on 


THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY          241 

the  door,  and  her  voice  called  "Are  you  there?" 

Startled,  surprised,  and  feeling  that  neither  his 
attitude  nor  his  costume  was  suitable  to  the  recep- 
tion of  a  lady,  Hogg  made  a  convulsive  effort  to 
rise,  somehow  lost  grip  of  the  dumb-bells  which 
slipped  through  his  fingers  and  falling,  hit  him 
heavily  in  the  stomach,  doubling  him  up  like  a 
whiting  and  entirely  depriving  him  of  breath. 

Rap — rap — knocked  Lady  Goldbury  again. 
"Mr.  Hogg,"  she  called,  "are  you  there — can  I 
come  in?" 

He  tried  to  answer  but  was  speechless. 

"Can  I  come—" 

He  heard  the  handle  turn.  He  had  no  time  to 
get  the  leg  cord  off  his  ankle.  He  could  not  reply. 
He  pointed  frantically  to  a  long  dressing  gown 
and  struggled  to  his  feet. 

"O  bother — where  are  you?" 

Williams  flung  the  brocade  wrap  quickly  on  to 
his  shoulders  and  discreetly  disappeared  as  Lady 
Goldbury  flung  open  the  door  and  entered. 

"Good  Heavens,"  she  exclaimed  angrily, 
"What's  the  matter — why  on  Earth  didn't  you 
answer  me?" 


242          THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY 

"C — couldn't,"  Hogg  whispered  with  an 
effort. 

"Voice  wrong?    Caught  a  cold  on  your  chest?" 

"N — no.  C — caught  a — dumb-bell — on — my 
waist." 

"Shouldn't  play  with  such  things.  What's  that 
ridiculous  looking  box  thing  for?" 

"Patent  Leg  and  Arm  developer."  His  voice 
was  getting  better  now,  and  his  "wind"  slowly 
returning.  "Wonderful  machine — with  it  you  can 
practice  anything  in  your  own  room — boxing, 
rowing — swimming — " 

"I  hate  swimming." 

"Why?" 

"Nothing  in  the  world  so  hideous  as  a  raw, 
half  dressed,  nubbley  man  with  naked  knees." 

Painfully  conscious  of  the  brevity  of  his  own 
costume  Hogg  drew  the  brocade  dressing  gown 
more  tightly  round  him,  and  faintly  murmured 
"O?" 

"Yes,"  Lady  Goldbury  went  on.  "Whenever 
I  see  a  Highland  Regiment  in  kilts  I  always  say 
the  same  thing." 

"What's  that?" 


THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY          243 

"Flounces!  .  .  .  Come  and  sit  down.  I  want 
to  talk  to  you." 

She  banged  a  couple  of  jewel  cases  on  to  the 
table  and  threw  herself  into  a  deep  armchair 
beside  it.  Forgetting  his  tethered  ankle  James 
was  about  to  follow,  but  directly  he  moved  his 
foot  to  walk  the  inexorable  Developer  promptly 
pulled  his  leg  into  the  air  nearly  throwing  him 
on  to  his  face  and  greatly  disarranging  his  dress- 
ing gown. 

Happily  Lady  Goldbury  was  not  looking  so  he 
discreetly  composed  his  garments,  and  said  "Er, 
thanks — if  you  don't  mind  I'll  stand — I'm  not 
tired." 

"I  am,"  said  Lady  Goldbury.  "For  I've 
traveled  all  night.  And  what's  more  I  am 
wretched." 

"I  am  awfully  sorry.    Bad  Passage?" 

"Bad  news." 

"Not,  I  hope,  business  news — money." 

"Worse,  Marriage." 

"Marriage  1"  Hogg  started  violently.  "Mar- 
riage, Lady  Goldbury — whose?" 

"Gwen  Ashley's." 


244          THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY, 

"Ah— Lady  Gwendolin's." 

"Yes — who  d'you  think  it's  to?" 

"Well,  of  course,  I've  heard  rumors." 

"They're  true.    It's  to  Noel  Ferrers." 

"Really—" 

"Yes.  And  I  can't  stand  him  in  painting.  I 
believe  he's  as  crooked  as  a  Ram's  Horn.  I 
can't  help  it  if  he's  a  friend  of  yours,  but  I  loathe 
the  sight  of  the  man — especially  when  he  glares 
at  and  gloats  over  Gwen.  Who  is  the  beast,  and 
where  does  he  come  from?" 

Hogg  waved  an  indefinite  hand. 

"Nonsense,"  said  Lady  Goldbury,  "you  know 
him.  He  was  the  man  who  gave  you  your  first 
introductions  in  this  country.  What  is  he — what 
was  he — what  did  he  do?" 

Hogg  colored  and  coughed.  His  knowledge 
of  Ferrers  dated  back  to  Australia.  In  Australia 
he  had  been  a  Bookmaker.  Ferrers  knew  it. 
Certainly  he  had  been  an  honest  Bookmaker, 
but  he  was  not  particularly  proud  of  his  calling, 
and  he  dreaded  any  allusion  to  it  in  the  presence 
of  Lady  Goldbury,  who,  although  she  was  in 
every  sense  a  "good  sportsman,"  regarded  the 


THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY          245 

business  of  bookmaking  with  very  unfavorable 
eyes.  Hogg  himself  could  not  see  much  difference 
between  Bookmaking  and  Stock  Jobbing — between 
the  Betting  Ring  and  the  Stock  Exchange — but 
Lady  Goldbury  thought  differently  and  that  was 
enough  for  him.  He  had  often  been  on  the  verge 
of  alluding  to  his  past,  but  her  vehement  denuncia- 
tions of  Bookmakers  and  all  their  ways  and  works 
had  deterred  him.  It  was  in  his  Bookmaking  past 
that  he  had  met  Ferrers,  and  he  colored  a  little 
when  Lady  Goldbury  repeated  her  question. 

"Well,  what's  the  mystery?  Where  did  you 
meet  him  first?" 

"O,  merely  in  Australia,"  said  Hogg. 

"And  what  was  he?"  she  persisted. 

"Champion  skater,"  he  replied  tersely. 

"What!" 

"Lived  on  thin  ice  and  never  quite  went 
through." 

"I  wish  he  had,  I  wish  you  knew  enough  to 
hang  him." 

"I  might  have,"  said  James  Hogg  suddenly 
looking  very  thoughtful  and  serious.  "I  might 
have,  and  I  don't  know  who  else  besides — if — " 


246          THE  SINS   OF   SOCIETY 

"If — "  Lady  Goldbury  rose  from  her  seat. 
"Good  gracious  1  if  what?" 

"If  that  chap  Morris,  the  Pawnbroker,  had 
died."  • 

"Morris  I  Now,  in  the  name  of  wonder  what 
had  Ferrers  to  do  with  Morris  ?  No,  don't  stand 
there  playing  at  oracles,  speak  up,  tell  me  at 
once." 

"Tell  me,"  Hogg  answered  slowly,  "Why 
Lady  Gwendolin  is  going  to  marry  him." 

"It  is  exactly  what  I  don't  understand.  I  never 
thought  she  would  look  at  another  man  after 
poor  Dorian  died.  When  I  saw  the  engagement 
in  the  papers  I  wrote  to  her  from  Nice — she  wrote 
back — it  was  a  heart-broken  letter,  you  could  see 
it  in  every  line,  practically  all  she  said  was,  'I 
marry  because  I  must'." 

"Must?"  said  Hogg,  and  for  the  moment  he 
gnawed  at  his  finger  nail. 

"Yes,"  said  Lady  Goldbury,  "those  were  her 
words — must — now  look  here,  I  am  very  fond  of 
Gwen,  so  I  tore  home  at  once  I — er — don't  know 
exactly  what  for— but  I  could  not  sit  still  over 
there  and  do  nothing.  Come  on — Come  on—" 


THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY         247, 

"Don't  jump  me  off,  please,"  said  Hogg,  "this 
is  a  serious  business — a  very  strange  business. 
Do  you  know  what  was  stolen  from  Morris?" 

"Of  course  I  know,"  snapped  the  Widow, 
"jewels." 

"Have  you  seen  the  Police  description  of 
them?" 

"No." 

"Then — "  He  was  going  to  move  forward, 
but  the  Developer  plucked  at  his  ankle  and  he 
stood  still  again.  "It  is  in  that  drawer  at 
your  elbow,"  he  said,  "a  full  description,  with 
a  rough  drawing,  of — your  Tiara." 

"Mine/" 

"Yes — letter  for  letter,  word  for  word — " 

"But  I've  had  mine  for  years.  Good  Heavens  I 
Does  anyone  suspect — does  Morris  suspect  me  in 
this  matter?" 

"No,  no,  of  course  not." 

"There's  no  of  course  about  it  if  what  you 
say  is  true.  It's  a  most  extraordinary  thing — 
he  has  written  me  several  letters  while  I  was 
away  asking  permission  to  see  my  Tiara.  On  my 
way  down  to  the  Bank  I  was  taking  it  to  him  now." 


248          THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY 

"Don't,"  said  Hogg  quickly. 

"Don't— why?" 

Hogg  paused  for  a  moment  and  then  he  said 
very  earnestly,  "For  Lady  Marion  Beaumont's 
sake." 

"James— !  !" 

"Yes.  Now  I  will  tell  you  something  I  have 
never  told  before — something  that  has  weighed 
on  my  conscience  like  a  nightmare,  for  months. 
I  was  on  the  River  bank  just  outside  my  cottage 
on — on  the  night  of  the  trouble.  Poor  Dorian 
March  was  there,  too,  chatting  with  me.  Sud- 
denly we  heard  police  whistles  blow  and  a  tall 
woman  ran  past,  I  could  not  see  her  face  but 
Dorian  stopped  her,  they  spoke,  she  hurriedly 
gave  him  a  white  cardboard  Box  and  then  ran  on. 
You  know  the  rest.  Poor  Dorian  got  away  and 
went  to  his  death." 

"But  the  Box,"  said  Lady  Goldbury,  "the  Box?" 

Hogg  glanced  furtively  at  the  door,  paused 
a  moment,  and  then  said  in  a  low  voice,  "/  have 
got  that — and  I  have  kept  it." 

"You — then  why  have  you  never  spoken !  Why 
have  you  never  said — " 


THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY          249 

"Because,"  Hogg  answered,  "Sir  Dorian's  last 
words  were,  'It  holds  a  woman's  honor.' ' 

"Woman — honor — what  woman?" 

"The  sister  of  the  girl  he  loved — who  else? 
As  she  fled  past  she  dropped  a  small  bottle,  I 
picked  it  up  and  examined  it  afterwards.  It  was 
half  full  of  morphia.  Morris  was  drugged  with 
morphia.  Now  that  bottle  I  have  taken  the 
trouble  to  find  out  was  bought  by  Mr.  Noel  Fer- 
rers, and  if  Morris  had  died  it's  on  the  cards 
that  bottle  would  have  hanged  him." 

"Impossible!  What  had  he  got  to  do  with 
it?" 

"This.  He  bought  the  cardboard  Box  that 
held  the  jewels,  you  could  see  the  maker's  name 
underneath,  and  what's  more,"  Hogg  looked  very 
straight  at  Lady  Goldbury,  "he  bought  two  boxes 
exactly  alike.  One  night  you  took  your  Tiara  to 
Lady  Marion's  house,  she  was  with  it  for  an  hour 
alone.  That  night  Morris  called  on  her.  And  if 
Ferrers  and  Lady  Marion  did  not  work  the  good 
old  double  box  trick  with  your  Tiara  I'll  eat  Fer- 
rers and  the  box." 

For  a  moment  Lady  Goldbury's  head  went 


250         THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY 

round,  then  she  gasped,  "We'll  go  to  the  Police 
at  once." 

"What,"  said  Hogg,  "and  give  away  Marion 
Beaumont?" 

"O,  good  Heavens!  no — " 

"Exactly,"  said  Hogg,  "now  you  begin  to  see 
what  I  mean.  Ferrers  knows  what  he  knows  and 
this  is  the  screw  he  puts  on  her — this  is  the  threat 
— this  is  why  poor  little  Lady  Gwen  'must 
marry.' ' 

"I  know,  I  know,  and  she  shan't,  she  must 
not,"  Lady  Goldbury  cried. 

"She  need,  not,"  said  James  Hogg  quietly 
and  triumphantly,  "if  you  will  sell  me  your 
Tiara." 

"Sell  it,"  gasped  the  Widow. 

"Yes,"  said  Hogg  emphatically,  "what  the 
deuce  do  I  care  what  it  costs  me?  It'll  save  her. 
It's  what  you  want — it's  what  I  want.  She  shall 
be  free  to-morrow — I'll  guarantee  it.  Will  you 
sell  it  to  me?" 

"No,"  choked  Lady  Goldbury,  her  eyes  filling 
with  tears,  "never.  But  I'll  give  it  you.  Bless 
your  good,  kind  heart,  James,  you're — you're 


THE  SINS  OF  SOCIETY         251 

about  the  best  chap  I  ever  met  and— look  here, 
if  you  like — there — you  may  kiss  me." 

"If  I  like— if— "  He  dashed  forward  to 
realize  the  dream  of  his  life,  when  the  Leg 
Developer  pulled  his  foot  smartly  from  the 
ground.  For  a  moment  he  hopped  wildly  like 
an  inebriated  stork,  and  instead  of  kissing  Lady 
Goldbury  fell  in  a  heap  on  the  floor. 

It  was  not  what  Lady  Goldbury  expected. 

"My  dear,"  she  exclaimed. 

"Don't  look  around,  please,"  he  said  hurriedly, 
"my — my  foot  caught,  if — if  you'll  just  turn  your 
back  for  one  minute — " 

Lady  Goldbury  snorted.  "And  play  Bo-peep 
hands  over  my  eyes,  guess  who  kissed  me.  Don't 
be  silly,  James." 

"No,  no,  I  won't  be,"  he  answered,  and  he 
struggled  violently  with  the  cord  on  his  ankle,, 
rapidly  getting  the  buckle  free,  "but  just  while — 
while  I'm  here  would  you  ring  up  Morris?" 

"Morris?" 

"Yes,  41416  Gerrard,  he'll  be  at  his  place  in 
Oxford  Street  expecting  you,  he  can  walk  around 
here  in  a  couple  of  minutes." 


252          THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY 

"Certainly,  if  you  wish  it,  but  what  for?" 

"To  make  him  tell  the  Police  that  he  with- 
draws all  accusations  and  that  the  jewels  arc 
found." 

"You  can  make  him  do  that!"  Lady  Gold- 
bury  cried  delightedly. 

"You'll  see,"  grunted  Hogg,  squatting  on  the 
floor  and  looking  like  an  idol  of  Buddha  in  re- 
duced circumstances.  "Then,"  he  went  on,  "I'm 
going  to  have  ten  minutes  with  the  seals  of  that 
box,  a  piece  of  putty  and  a  hot  knife,  then  you 
are  going  to  Devonshire  to  tell  Lady  Marion  she 
has  nothing  to  fear,  then  dear  little  Lady  Gwen 
can  do  as  she  likes,  and  then  Ferrers  can  go  to 
the—" 

"41416  Gerrard,"  said  Lady  Goldbury  ju- 
diciously. 

In  a  moment  the  answer  came,  and  she  con- 
tinued, "Yes,  yes,  Mr.  Morris  personally,  yes, 
can  he  come  around  to  Mr.  Hogg's  flat — Mr. 
Beverley  Hogg,  the  Australian  millionaire — hem, 
that'll  fetch  him — Harcourt  House,  Cavendish 
Square,  at  once  please — important  business — right, 
thank  you."  She  banged  on  the  receiver  as  Hogg 


THE  SINS  OF   SOCIETY         253 

at  last  free  of  the  strap  rose  to  his  feet  with  a 
beaming  smile. 

"Amelia,"  he  said,  "I'm  ready." 

Lady  Goldbury  looked  a  little  confused,  but 
she  only  murmured,  "Very  well,  James." 

He  had  almost  put  his  arm  around  her  waist 
when  he  stopped  short.  Unlike  many  people 
James  Hogg  obeyed  his  conscience  when  it  really 
pricked  him.  He  looked  at  Lady  Goldbury  and 
he  sighed.  The  temptation  was  strong,  but  he 
shook  his  head  and  said,  "No,  I  won't  do  it  under 
false  pretences." 

For  a  moment  Lady  Goldbury  stared  blankly, 
then  with  the  quick  intuition  of  a  woman  she 
jumped  at  what  she  thought  could  be  the  only 
possible  reason  for  his  hesitation.  "James,"  she 
said  quickly,  "you  are  not  going  to  tell  me  you 
are  a  married  man?" 

"I'm  worse,"  he  answered. 

"Engaged!" 

"I  am  a  deceiver." 

"Breach  of  promise,"  she  snapped. 

"No."  He  shook  his  head.  "But  I  have  a 
past." 


254         THE  SINS  OE  SOCIETY 

Lady  Goldbury  heaved  a  sigh  of  relief.  "O 
well,"  she  said,  "every  man  has.  There,  don't 
talk  to  me  about  it,  I  don't  want  to  hear,  I'm  sure 
she  was  in  the  wrong." 

Hogg  shook  his  head  this  time.  "There  was 
no  'she',"  he  said,  "it  is  only  me,  I  am  just  an 
ordinary  commercial  liar." 

"About  what?" 

"Myself.     But  I  can't  be  to  you — any  more. 

Out  in  Australia  before  my  uncle  left  me  all  his 

i 

money,  I  was,"  he  clenched  his  hands  for  the  con- 
fession, "a  Bookmaker." 

"Bookmaker,"  Lady  Goldbury  answered,  "You 
mean  a  Publisher?" 

"No,"  said  Hogg,  holding  up  his  head,  "not 
as  bad  as  that.  I  was  a  Betting  Bookmaker." 

"O  James,  how  very,  very  dreadful." 

"I  know  it  is.  And  what  is  worse — I  was 
successful." 

"Don't,"  gasped  Lady  Goldbury. 

"I  must,"  Hogg  went  on,  "let  me  make  a 
clean  breast  of  it.  I  never  took  the  knock  or 
welshed  anyone.  I  was  sordidly  honest  and 
morbidly  respectable.  But  I  was — a  Bookmaker 


(THE  SINS  OF  SOCIETY         255, 

for  all  that."  There  was  almost  anguish  in  his 
voice,  and  he  stood  looking  the  picture  of  genuine 
misery. 

Lady  Goldbury  kept  a  straight  face  and  her 
eye  twinkled,  but  she  answered  dramatically,  "I 
never  dreamed  a  man  could  be  so  vile.  I  hate 
betting,  yet  you  come  here  betraying  me  with 
your  false  unsporting  smile.  I  never  took  you 
for  a  better." 

"Take  me  for  a  better  or  a  worse,"  Hogg 
pleaded  desperately. 

Lady  Goldbury's  face  relaxed  and  broadened 
into  one  big,  happy  smile.  "  'Pon  my  word, 
James,"  she  said,  "I  would  not  say  'yes'  to  any- 
one else." 

"I  don't  want  you  to,"  he  said.  "Say  it  to 
me,  say  'yes'  to  the  one  question  that  you  know  is 
always  in  my  heart,  say  'yes'  and  I  will  save 
little  Gwen  for  you — " 

"I  won't  say  it  for  that  reason,"  said  Lady- 
Goldbury,  and  she  laid  her  hand  upon  his  arm, 
"but  I  will  say  it  because,"  she  looked  up  at 
him  and  added  simply,  "because  I  love  you, 
Jim." 


256          THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY. 

There  was  no  hesitation  about  the  kiss  that 
time. 

Indeed,  there  might  have  been  more  than  one, 
but  Williams,  who  was  discreetly  coughing  at  the 
door  announced  "Mr.  Morris,"  and  the  great 
jeweller,  quiet,  courteous,  trimmed  and  groomed, 
stood  before  them  bowing. 

"Ah,"  said  Hogg,  with  businesslike  rapidity, 
"Good  morning,  Mr.  Morris,  thanks  for  coming 
around.  My  friend,  Lady  Goldbury,  wanted  to 
see  you  for  a  minute,  then  I  want  to  talk  business." 

Morris  bowed.    "I  am  obliged,  sir." 

Lady  Goldbury  snapped  the  lock  of  the  nearest 
jewel  case.  ".You  wanted  to  see  my  old  Tiara,  I 
think,  Mr.  Morris,"  she  said. 

"If  your  ladyship  has  no  objection — " 

"Well,  there  it  is,"  she  said,  and  placed  the 
Tiara  in  his  hands. 

The  Pawnbroker  stared  at  it  in  blank  amaze- 
ment. For  a  moment  he  examined  it  closely, 
"Good  gracious,"  he  exclaimed,  "I  could  swear 
to  it." 

"Swear  to  what,"  said  Lady  Goldbury  sharply. 

"That  it  was  stolen  from  me  at  Windsor." 


THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY          257 

"Are  you  daring  to  suggest  that  I — .?" 

"No,  no,  my  lady." 

"That  Tiara  was  presented  to  my  late  husband 
years  ago — " 

"And  has  never  been  out  of  your  possession?" 

"Never,"  Lady  Goldbury  replied,  and  she 
triumphantly  carried  the  Tiara  back  to  its  case. 

"It  is  most  remarkable,"  Morris  murmured, 
"but — but — Lady  Marion  Beaumont  had  one 
exactly  like — " 

Lady  Goldbury  had  her  back  to  him,  but  there 
was  not  a  quiver  in  her  voice  as  she  fulminated 
the  Lie  of  the  Century.  "I  have  seen  her  Tiara 
often,"  she  said,  "I  believe  it  was  made  for  her 
in  Paris— I  lent  her  the  design." 

"Yes,  and  what  are  you  going  to  do  when 
she  asks  for  it  back,"  said  Hogg  with  Napoleonic 
decision,  carrying  the  war  into  the  enemy's 
camp. 

"Ask  for  it?"  said  Morris,  taken  abaclc. 

"Exactly,"  snapped  Hogg,  "she  has  shown  you 
great  consideration,  Mr.  Morris." 

"Sir — consideration !" 

"Certainly.     Things   are   never  pledged    for 


258          THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY 

more  than  one  third  of  their  value — er — at  least 
so  I  am  told." 

"Precisely." 

"What  did  you  lend  her  on  her  jewels?" 

"Seven  thousand  pounds." 

"And  when  she  puts  seven  thousand  pounds 
on  the  table,  what  are  you  going  to  say?" 

"The  jewels  were  stolen." 

"That's  your  fault,  my  friend." 

"Mine,  sir?" 

"Certainly.  You  chose  to  lug  them  about  the 
country  in  your  pocket  instead  of  leaving  them 
in  your  safe.  They  were  clearly  worth  £21,000. 
iWhen  she  puts  down  her  money  she  will  want  her 
jewels  or  your  money." 

Morris  took  off  his  glasses  and  wiped  them 
slowly.  "I  venture  to  suggest,"  he  said,  "that  she 
has  not  yet  made  the  offer." 

"She  makes  it  now,"  Hogg  answered  sharply. 
"She  is  ill,  you  know,  I  act  for  her,  I  will  write 
you  a  check  now  for  seven  thousand  pounds.  In 
her  name  I  ask  for  her  Tiara  or  twenty  one  thou- 
sand pounds." 

"For  twenty  one  thousand — " 


THE  SINS  OF  SOCIETYj         1259 

"If  you  please." 

"Really,  Mr.  Hogg,  it-^it  seems  very  hard—" 

UI  don't  say  it's  not,  but  business  is  business. 
Still,  I  have  something  to  suggest.  You  and  the 
Police  between  you,  like  a  lot  of  idiots,  got  out 
a  warrant  for  the  arrest  of  poor  Sir  Dorian 
March.  He  is  dead.  But  his  memory  is  still 
very  dear — to  a  lady  we  know." 

"I  can  quite  understand,  I  deeply  regret,"  said 
Morris. 

"Now  I  have  made  certain  enquiries,"  Hogg 
went  on,  "A  rich  man  can  do  a  lot  of  things 
when  he  makes  up  his  mind,  as  you  know,  and  I 
have  certain  information  that  your  box  was  stolen 
by  an  ordinary  common  thief,  one  of  those  con- 
cerned in  the  many  burglaries  that  took  place 
on  the  River  at  the  time.  There  was  such  a  hue 
and  cry  that  the  man  did  not  dare  open  the  box, 
but  he  has  kept  it  safely  ever  since.  Now,  if  it 
were  recovered  and  restored  to  you — " 
"The  Box?" 

"Yes,  the  box— sealed— " 
"Is  that,"  said  Morris  slowly,  "is  that  what 
Lady  Marion  Beaumont  wishes?" 


THE  SINS   OF  SOCIETY 

"It  is  what  I  wish,  it  is  what  I  am  prepared 
to  do  if  no  questions  are  asked,  mind  you,  if  all 
accusations  are  withdrawn,  if  the  warrant  is 
cancelled,  the  Box  shall  be  placed  in  your  hands 
to  be  opened  by  you  in  the  presence  of  Lady 
Marion  herself." 

For  the  moment  Morris  could  hardly  believe 
his  ears.  The  story  all  sounded  too  strange  and 
too  wonderful,  but  he  was  not  there  to  unravel 
mysteries.  Hogg  had  him  in  a  corner,  and  he 
knew  it.  Hogg's  check  was  as  good  as  a  bank 
note.  If  Hogg  paid  it  for  Lady  Marion  what 
was  he,  Morris,  to  do?  He  shrugged  his  shoul- 
ders. 

"If  you  have  Lady  Marion's  instructions,  sir," 
he  said,  "and  I  am  not  as  it  were  compounding 
a  felony — " 

"That's  your  job,"  Hogg  interrupted,  "a 
Pawnbroker  with  scruples  is  a  bit  of  a  novelty. 
I've  made  my  offer,  if  you  don't  like  it  hand  me 
your  twenty-one  thousand  and — " 

"The  warrant  shall  be  cancelled  to-day,"  said 
Morris. 

"Good.    And  you'll  travel  with  me  to-night." 


THE   SINS   OF  SOCIETY]         261 

"To-?" 

Hogg  smiled.  "To  the  place  where  the  Box 
will  be  waiting.  I'll  phone  you  where  to  meet  me 
when  I  hear  you've  been  to  Bow  Street." 

"Nothing,  of  course,  will  be  said?" 

"Nothing,  my  guileless  friend.  What  do  you 
think?  Good-day  to  you." 

"Good-day,  sir.  Good-day,  my  lady."  Morris 
bowed  and  walked  out  of  the  room  as  a  man  walks 
in  a  dream. 

"Breakfast  is  served,  sir,"  said  Williams. 

Lady  Goldbury  picked  up  her  jewel  cases. 

"Won't  you  stop  and  pick  a  bit  of  chicken," 
said  Hogg. 

"What!  begin  'hen  pecking'  already!" 

"I  should  like  it — and  drink  one  glass  with  me 
— a  toast,  fortune,  health  and  happiness — " 

"And  peace,"  said  Lady  Goldbury.  "Happi- 
ness and  peace  as  much  as  we  can  bring  of  it  in 
this  world  to  Marion  and  my  little  Gwen." 

That  night  off  the  Irish  coast  a  whole  gale 
was  blowing.  Through  the  heavy  squalls  and 


262         THE  SINS  OF  SOCIETY 

the  drifting  rain  ships  passed  unseen  in  the  dark- 
ness. 

In  the  little  Devonshire  cottage  Gwen  knelt 
by  her  bedside  in  prayer,  a  wan,  pathetic  little 
figure,  the  masses  of  her  golden  hair  falling  from 
her  bent  head  over  her  folded  hands. 

To-morrow  was  her  Wedding  Day. 


CHAPTER  X 


'THE  DARKEST  HOUR  .  .  ." 


NO  man  can  know  everything.  James  Hogg 
did  not  know  that  Dorian  March  was 
alive,  and  naturally  never  dreamed  that  the 
Police  were  waiting  to  intercept  him.  He  was 
quite  content  therefore  when  he  heard  that  Morris 
had  completed  the  necessary  formalities  for 
withdrawing  his  criminal  charge,  and  in  due 
course  he  notified  the  jeweler  that  they  would 
travel  at  midnight  from  Paddington  by  the  night 
train  which  reaches  Plymouth  at  seven  in  the 
morning.  The  drive  to  Mothercombe,  Hogg 
calculated  would  take  another  two  or  three  hours. 
The  Police,  however,  who  are  always  reticent 
and  sometimes  leisurely,  made  no  immediate 
haste  about  notifying  the  Plymouth  Head  Con- 


264         THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY 

stable.  They  sent  no  special  wire  or  anything  of 
that  kind.  They  merely  wrote  in  the  ordinary 
way,  saying  that  if  arrested  Sir  Dorian  March 
was  to  "be  detained"  pending  instructions.  As  a 
matter  of  fact,  the  sudden  withdrawal  of  the 
charge  by  Morris,  coinciding  with  the  private 
information,  given  by  Ferrers,  that  a  man  sup- 
posed to  be  dead  was  actually  alive,  looked 
suspicious.  A  shining  light  in  the  Criminal 
Investigation  Department  advised  caution.  So 
while  Hogg,  Lady  Goldbury  and  Morris  were 
rattling  through  the  darkness  and  dozing  pleas- 
antly in  the  Down  Express,  the  detectives  at 
Plymouth  were  very  much  awake. 

Noel  Ferrers  was  also  awake.  Savagely, 
feverishly,  awake  in  a  Plymouth  Hotel,  from 
which  he  meant  to  drive  over  to  his  Wedding 
at  Mothercombe  in  the  morning.  More  than 
once  during  the  day  he  had  visited  the  local  offices 
of  the  Shipping  Cpmpany,  but  there  was  no  news 
of  the  Magdala.  The  old  boat  was  not  fitted 
with  a  modern  Marconi  installation,  and  therefore 
could  not  notify  her  approach.  She  might  easily 
pass  the  nearest  signal  station  unseen.  Her  lights 


THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY          265 

off  the  Hoe  would  probably  give  the  first  indi- 
cation of  her  arrival. 

And  they  did. 

In  the  midst  of  his  sulky,  solitary  dinner  Noel 
Ferrers  was  rung  up  by  an  obliging  Shipping 
Clerk,  and  told  that  the  Magdala  was  in  sight. 
By  the  time  he  reached  the  great  gray  wharf  the 
Steam  Tender  had  already  started  with  the 
watchful  detectives  on  board. 

Ferrers  gnawed  a  cigar  while  he  watched  the 
big  green  and  red  lights  moving  among  the  sta- 
tionary shipping  as  the  liner  forged  slowly 
forward — waited  and  watched,  it  seemed  for  an 
age,  till  she  came  solemnly  and  majestically 
alongside  and  was  wharped  to  her  berth. 

But  the  gangways  did  not  fall.  Nobody  came 
ashore  or  was  allowed  to  go  aboard. 

Ferrers  peering  through  the  darkness  saw  a 
stream  of  passengers  file  up  from  the  Saloon, 
where  he  judged  that  they  had  been  assembled 
for  inspection.  Later  a  number  of  men  in  some 
uniform,  possibly  the  Stewards,  came  from  the 
direction  of  the  Second  Class  Cabins — they  also 
had  probably  been  inspected. 


266         [THE  SINS  OF  SOCIETY 

Then  at  last  the  gangways  fell,  and  everybody 
coming  on  shore  was  again  carefully  scrutinized 
by  the  detectives  as  they  passed. 

But  without  avail. 

The  parade  and  examination  of  the  Crew, 
Stokers  and  Firemen  followed.  Still  without 
apparent  result.  At  last  the  Police  finished  their 
work  and  Ferrers,  intercepting  the  Inspector  in 
charge,  heard  the  result — and  heard  it  with  an 
impotent  oath. 

On  board  the  Magdala  there  was  no  trace  of 
Sir  Dorian  March,  but — one  of  the  Second  Class 
deck  stewards  was  missing! 

He  had  signed  on  at  Buenos  Ayres  under  the 
name  of  Martin.  His  description  answered  to 
that  of  the  wanted  man.  He  had  been  seen  at 
his  work  shortly  before  the  Police  Tender  came 
alongside,  but  in  the  bustle  and  excitement  that 
ensued  he  had  disappeared — that  was  all — 
vanished. 

Ferrers  angrily  insisted  that  the  ship  should 
be  searched  again,  that  detectives  should  be  left 
on  board  of  her,  but  the  Inspector  shook  his  head. 
Obviously  the  man  had  guessed  at  what  might 


[THE  SINS   OF   SOCIETY         267 

happen  on  his  arrival,  and  had  boldly  slipped  over 
the  side.  If  he  were  a  bad  swimmer  he  would 
most  certainly  drown.  He  had  taken  the  chance. 
If  he  were  a  strong  swimmer  he  might  just 
possibly  get  ashore  in  the  darkness. 

Dorian  March  was  a  very  strong  swimmer. 
Ferrers  knew  it,  and  he  cursed  aloud. 

The  Inspector  offered  some  consolation, 
however.  The  man's  draggled  condition  would 
naturally  attract  attention  wherever  he  was  seen. 
The  Harbor  police  would  be  notified  at  once — so 
would  the  night  patrols  on  the  outlying  roads — 
the  telephone  travels  faster  than  a  fugitive.  The 
man  could  not  remain  at  large  for  long. 

Acting  on  the  advice  of  Mr.  Ferrers  the 
Inspector  would  see  that  the  roads  to,  and  the 
vicinity  of,  Mothercombe  should  be  given  especial 
attention. 

"Don't  be  afraid,  sir,"  he  said.  "If  he's  alive 
twe  shall  have  him  right  enough  directly  the  sun's 
up — these  parts  ain't  no  place  for  a  stranger  to 
wander  in." 

But  Dorian  March  knew  this  just  as  well  as 
the  Inspector.  As  a  lad  he  had  hunted  Red  Deer 


268          THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY! 

on  the  Moors  and  had  fished  in  the  countless  bays 
and  inlets  that  indent  the  rough  coast.  He  had 
quietly  looked  up  a  map  on  the  voyage  and  had 
thoughtfully  and  thoroughly  worked  out  his  plan 
of  campaign.  Never  doubting  that  his  letters 
had  safely  reached  their  destination  he  imagined 
that  Gwen  knew  he  was  alive.  With  the  pardon- 
able vanity  of  a  handsome  young  man,  and  the 
foolish  confidence  of  a  devoted  lover,  he  put  all 
thought  of  finding  Gwen  married  out  of  his  mind. 
He  felt  sure  that  she  was  in  no  danger  now.  He 
felt  less  certain  about  Marion.  During  moments 
of  calm  reflection  he  realized  that  it  was  all  very 
fine  to  say,  "You  must  settle  with  Morris,"  but 
how  was  she  going  to  do  it?  How  had  she  done 
it?  Had  she  done  it  at  all?  And  if  not — ? 

Should  he  give  himself  up  to  the  police  at  once, 
and  tell  the  Truth — which  would  certainly  ruin 
Marion:  or  should  he  again  fly  the  country,  a 
hunted  criminal?  If  so,  would  Gwen  fly  with 
him? 

All  was  conjecture,  all  was  doubt.  He  did  not 
even  know  whether  there  was  a  possibility  of  his 
being  arrested  on  landing,  or  not.  It  was  clear, 


THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY          269 

however,  that  he  must  not  take  the  risk  until  he 
had  seen  and  spoken  with  Marion  Beaumont. 
What  he  would  do  must  depend  on  what  she  had 
done,  or  was  doing. 

Though  the  wind  had  shifted  to  the  North  and 
the  gale  had  begun  to  blow  itself  out,  the 
Magdala  passed  the  Woolf  Rock,  the  Lizard,  and 
even  the  Eddystone  in  thick  squally  weather  and 
exchanged  no  signals,  but  under  the  lea  of  the 
land  the  off  shore  breeze  left  an  easy  sea  and  com- 
parative calm.  Directly  they  passed  Devonport 
and  entered  the  deep  sheltered,  land-locked 
harbor,  Dorian  March  took  a  change  of  dry 
clothes,  wrapped  up  in  a  piece  of  water-tight 
tarpaulin,  together  with  a  flask  of  brandy  and 
some  biscuits,  slung  them  over  his  shoulder,  and 
when  all  attention  was  attracted  to  the  Police 
Tender  as  she  bumped  along  the  strake,  he 
dropped  quietly  and  silently  down  a  rope  into  the 
dark  water  and  immediately  disappeared. 

But  he  made  no  attempt  to  land.  He  knew 
that  directly  he  was  found  to  be  missing,  a  hue 
and  cry  would  be  raised,  and  that  anywhere  about 
the  immediate  shore  the  police  would  be  on  the 
watch  for  him. 


270         THE  SINS  OF  SOCIETY 

Treading  the  water,  with  his  head  barely  above 
it,  he  presently  drifted  to  the  place  he  had  marked 
as  they  passed,  the  place  he  was  making  for — the 
anchorage  of  the  Fishing  Boats.  From  some  of  the 
smaller  craft  the  crews  had  gone  on  shore  for 
the  night — possibly  they  lived  on  shore — anyhow 
the  boats  were  empty.  Dorian  crawled  silently  on 
board  the  smallest  he  could  find,  and  putting  to 
good  account  the  seamanship  he  had  learned 
on  the  Spanish  boat  that  rescued  him,  he  man- 
aged to  raise  the  lug  sail  a  yard  or  two — just 
enough  to  give  steering  way,  then  he  slipped  the 
anchor  hawser  overside,  and  for  half  a  mile  or, 
so  he  stood  boldly  out  to  sea. 

Presently  he  tacked,  sharply,  an'd  later  ran 
partly  before  the  wind  till  the  little  boat  tossed 
dangerously  below  .Yealm  Head. 

There  was  safety  on  the  other  side,  however. 
The  high  cliffs  screened  him  from  the  wind, 
though  he  had  to  run  outward  for  a  while  passing 
Ravelstoke.  He  knew  that  his  sailing  must  lools 
a  little  curious  and  erratic  to  expert  eyes,  and  he 
did  not  court  attention. 

But  he  did  not  guite  escape  it.    Lacking  knowl- 


ITHE  SINS  OF  SOCIETY         1271 

edge  of  the  lights  by  which  to  steer,  he  crept  close 
inland,  groping  along  round  Bigbury  Bay  for  the 
small  river  that  pours  into  it,  just  below  Mother- 
combe  village.  More  than  once  he  glanced 
anxiously  ahead  of  him,  for  the  Eastern  stars 
were  paling,  the  black  water  was  streaked  and 
patched  here  and  there  with  touches  of  ghostly 
livid  green — a  few  moments  later  lit  and  sparkled 
reflecting  the  shield  of  opal  and  amber  that  began 
to  glow  above  them — color  came  to  the  faces  of 
the  cliffs,  deep  red,  capped  with  turf  of  marvelous 
green — the  shore  was  sprinkled  with  sand  of 
silver  white,  over  which  the  dark  shadows  of 
•queer  goblin-shaped  rocks  fell  in  distorted  length 
clean  cut,  with  curious  intensity.  Almost  cursing 
the  coming  day  Dorian  saw  the  cliff  wall  suddenly; 
break  and  seem  to  recede.  At  last!  There  was 
the  river  mouth,  and  on  the  heights  the  little 
village — Mothercombe — he  had  no  doubt  of  it. 
He  tacked  in.  Then  changed  his  mind  and  held 
his  course  till  the  next  headland  hid  him.  Once 
put  of  sight,  he  chose  a  stretch  of  low  sand  and 
ran  his  boat  straight  for  the  shore. 

It  is  not  the  easiest  thing  in  the  world  to  beach 


272          THE  SINS   OF   SOCIETY) 

a  boat  properly.  Dorian  did  it  very  badly.  He 
let  his  boat  ground  with  a  glancing  blow,  and  as 
he  had  forgotten  to  lower  his  lug  sail,  the  little 
vessel  was  promptly  blown  over  and  lay  on  her 
side  in  shallow  water. 

No  fisherman  ever  leaves  his  boat  in  difficulties. 
But  Dorian  promptly  sprang  ashore  and  went 
rapidly  towards  a  path  that  led  up  to  the  cliff. 
This  was  a  thoughtless  advertisement  to  the  whole 
world  that  he  did  not  belong  to  the  boat,  and  that 
the  boat  did  not  belong  to  him. 

To  whom  then  did  it  belong? 

That  is  just  the  kind  of  thing  that  the  Coast 
Guard  have  a  right  to  inquire.  And  one  Coast 
Guardsman  having  swept  the  Bay  with  his  glass 
directly  there  was  light  enough  to  see,  returned 
to  a  curious  observation  of  Dorian's  little  craft 
more  than  once.  He  could  see  only  one  man 
aboard  of  her.  She  ought  to  have  carried  three. 
The  half-hoist  of  the  sail  was  peculiar.  Her 
steering  was  a  shade  erratic.  Was  her  skipper 
intoxicated,  or  had  one  of  her  crew  run  off  with 
her  on  some  drunken  spree? 

When  she  sheared   away  suddenly   from  the 


THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY!          273 

River  mouth,  the  Coast  Guard  frowned.  When 
he  saw  her  beached  awkwardly  and  promptly 
abandoned  by  a  man  who  came  hurrying  up  the 
cliff,  he  felt  the  time  had  come  to  interfere,  and 
therefore  just  as  Dorian  reached  the  summit  of 
the  path  he  found  the  burly  form  of  the  Ex-man- 
o'-war's  man  planted  across  his  way  between  the 
rocks — just  two  yards  too  soon! 

Six  feet  further  on  and  the  road  spread  openly 
— he  could  have  dodged  and  run  for  it.  Here 
he  was  caught  like  a  rat  in  a  trap — if  the  Coast 
Guard  suspected  anything. 

He  was  not  left  long  in  doubt! 

"And  where  be  you  going  to,  my  lad?"  said 
the  Sailor. 

"To — er — to  Mothercombe,"  Dorian  an- 
swered. 

"Then  why  didn't  'e  sail  there?"  the  Sailor 
asked.  Dorian  knew  he  had  been  watched — and 
naturally,  suspected. 

"I  sail  where  I  like,"  he  said,  "it's  my  own 
business." 

"Is  it?  Well — an'  who's  boat  do  'e  sail  in? 
That's  my  business." 


274         THE  SINS  OF  SOCIETY 

"She's  my  own  boat." 

"Is  she?    What's  her  name  then?" 

"The — "  Like  a  flash  Dorian  struck  the 
Coast  Guard  full  in  the  face,  leaped  across  him 
as  he  fell — and  bolted. 

Beyond  about  a  mile  of  broken  Down  land, 
dotted  with  patches  of  glorious  golden  gorse, 
lay  the  village.  The  low  roofs  and  the  squat 
Church  Tower  stood  out  clear  cut,  as  the  morn- 
ing grew,  and  Dorian  raced  boldly  towards  them, 
with  an  angry  Coast  Guardsman  panting  at  his 
heels.  For  Dorian  had  in  his  mind  but  one  idea 
— he  meant  to  see  Marion,  face  to  face,  and 
alone,  before  he  was  captured.  From  the  hour 
that  he  started  he  knew  that  at  the  last  moment 
he  would  probably  have  to  make  a  dash  for  it, 
and  he  was  making  it  now.  His  pursuer  was  an 
older  man,  and  inclined  to  be  fat.  The  gap 
between  them  widened,  and  presently  Dorian, 
feeling  that  he  was  fairly  safe,  stopped 
and  turned  to  see  where  the  other  man  was. 

To  his  dismay  he  saw  him  standing  on  a  large 
stone,  swinging  his  arms  from  side  to  side  and 
striking  strange  attitudes.  As  a  soldier  Dorian 


THE  SINS  OE  SOCIETY! 

K  ..-V 

knew  in  an  instant  what  was  happening.  Some- 
where ahead  of  him  was  another  Coast  Guards- 
man to  whom  his  pursuer  was  making  semaphore 
signals.  He  was  cut  off ! 

Then  the  memory  of  many  an  anxious  moment 
in  South  Africa  came  back  to  him,  and  quickly; 
flinging  away  his  bundle  he  dived  into  the  fern 
and  heather  and  dealt  with  his  Coast  Guards  as 
he  had  often  dealt  with  Boers.  .  .  . 

It  was  a  long  bit  of  work. 

The  first  Coast  Guard  semaphored  to  the 
Signal  Station  on  the  heights  from  which  a  tele- 
phone message  brought  out  a  couple  of  local 
police — and  perhaps  a  dozen  or  so  lads  and  idlers 
would  have  joined  and  made  things  more  difficult 
but  for  the  earliness  of  the  hour — and  the  fact 
that  every  man,  woman  and  child  who  had  risen 
to  look  upon  the  coming  Dawn  that  morning,  was 
kneeling  in  the  little  Church,  at  prayer. 

In  the  quiet  Old  World  village  the  custom 
still  prevailed  of  humbly  asking  God's  Blessing 
on  the  Work  when  the  Herring  Boats  put  out  to 
cast  their  great  skein  nets  for  the  first  time  in 
the  year.  Wives  prayed  for  their  Husbands, 


276         THE   SINS   OF  SOCIET\ 

Mothers  for  their  Sons,  Children  for  their 
Fathers — that  the  Lord  would  fulfil  their  labors 
and  guard  them  from  the  dangers  of  the  deep. 

Since  time  immemorial  they  met  together 
before  the  Dawn  broke,  and  saw  in  the  golden 
splendors  of  the  morning  a  portent  of  the  Harvest 
that  they  prayed  the  sea  might  yield. 

They  heard  no  shout  from  the  Man  Hunt  on 
the  Down.  They  did  not  hear  the  Lytch  Gate 
click,  and  did  not  know  that  a  crouching  shadowy 
figure  slipped  panting  into  the  green  Church 
•Yard,  and  creeping  close  up  to  the  Porch  lay 
hiding  among  the  simple  wooden  cross  and  moss 
grown  stones  that  guarded  the  silent  graves. 

Through  the  open  door  the  voice  of  the  old 
gray  haired  Pastor  speaking  in  solemn  reverent 
exhortation  reached  the  ears  of  the  fugitive — 
the  voice  that  charged  them  to  remember  that 
they  should  live  worthily,  to  deserve  the  Blessing 
for  which  they  prayed,  to  remember  that  as 
sinners  they  were  asking  not  only  for  God's  Bless- 
ing but  for  God's  Mercy. 

"Speak  not  in  haste  or  anger,"  said  the  Voice. 
"Judge  not,  that  ye  be  not  Judged.  Forgive  as 


THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY,         277 

ye  would  be  Forgiven.  Remember  ye  who  come 
here,  that  the  House  of  the  Lord  is  not  for  the 
righteous  alone.  It  is  the  Refuge  for  the  Sinner, 
the  Suffering,  and  for  the  Oppressed.  Kneel 
here,  and  ask — and  you  shall  find  Comfort,  Pity, 
Peace.  At  the  hands  of  the  Lord  you  shall  find 
Mercy,  as  you  shall  find  Sanctuary  in  His  House." 

"And  now  ...  " 

There  followed  the  faint  rustle  and  scuffling 
of  feet  as  the  Congregation  knelt  for  the  final 
blessing.  Then  the  soft  melodious  tones  of  the 
Organ  swelled,  and  the  people  trooped  out,  sturdy 
weather-beaten  men  in  blue  jerseys,  pulling  on 
their  red-knitted  caps,  women  with  shawls  or 
kerchiefs  about  their  heads,  scampering  children, 
moving  off  in  a  straggling  procession  down  the 
steep  road  to  the  little  wave  worn  jetty — for,  such 
was  the  custom  and  usage,  each  man  went  from 
prayer  straight  to  his  work  upon  the  waters,  while 
the  women  stood  by  the  quay  waving  them  God 
Speed. 

"Sanctuary  .  .  .  ' 

Gazing  hungrily  from  his  hiding  place  at  the 
open  Church  door,  Dorian  wondered  if  he  could 
find  it  there. 


278          THE  SINS  OF  SOCIETY 

He  saw  the  Organist,  who  was  also  the  School- 
master, hurry  out  with  a  roll  of  Music  under  his 
arm. 

Later  the  Verger  hobbled  away  down  the 
path. 

Then  the  Vicar  came,  pausing  for  a  moment 
to  look  out  over  the  Bay,  and  up  at  the  speck- 
less  morning  sky,  before — he  closed  and  locked 
the  door! 

From  the  distance  came  a  shout — then  another 
nearer  still. 

And  Dorian  rising  like  a  ghost  among  the 
tombs  rose  and  touched  the  Vicar  on  the  arm. 

The  old  man  started  at  the  sudden  apparition, 
the  haggard  face,  but  before  his  lips  could  open 
Dorian  desperately  gasped  out  the  one  word— 

"Sanctuary!" 

In  the  eyes  of  the  Vicar  there  was  some  curi- 
osity, but  more  kindliness — and  no  fear. 

"Sanctuary?"  he  said  quietly.  "You  ask  for 
yourself?" 

"No,  Sir,"  said  Dorian  between  his  teeth.  "I 
don't  ask  for  any  one.  I  claim  it." 

"Claim—?" 


THE  SINS   OF  SOCIETY,          279 

"Yes,  claim — no  matter  who  I  am,  or  wha': 
I  am — claim,  what  you  promised,  here — promised 
in  your  own  words,  'Here  in  this  place  is  Pardon, 
here  is  Sanctuary !'  That  was  your  Message— > 
that  is  your  Faith.  Now  prove  it." 

The  Vicar  heard  the  feverish  voice,  noted  the 
hunted,  restless  look,  and  wondered  what  might 
be  the  trouble  of  this  particular  soul. 

"You  ask  for  Sanctuary,"  he  said,  "but  not 
for  Pardon—?" 

"My  hands  are  clean,  sir,"  Dorian  interrupted. 
"I  ask  for  Sanctuary — a  few  hours  refuge  and 
rest  that  I  may  prove  it." 

A  whistle  shrilled  uncertainly — blown  by  a  man 
who  was  running — and  a  loud  hallo  sounded  not 
far  off.  The  Vicar  saw  Dorian's  hands  clench, 
and  his  lips  tighten.  The  danger,  whatever  it 
might  be,  was  very  near.  Sanctuary — was  it  fit- 
ting? The  face  and  the  voice  of  the  supplicant 
bespoke  education  and  birth.  Yet  he  was  clearly 
flying — a  Hunted  Man,  who  for  all  the  Vicar 
knew  might  be  an  escaped  Convict,  a  Murderer, 
a — "Judge  not" — the  Vicar  heard  his  own  words 
ringing  in  his  ear — had  not  the  Lord  Himself  said 


280         THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY 

unto  the  sinner  "go  and  sin  no  more."  He  had 
not  punished  him.  Moreover,  the  man  before 
him  claimed  Sanctuary  pleading  Innocence.  Cer- 
tainly he  had  no  proof — but  "Judge  not." 

The  Vicar  looked  at  the  big  key  in  his  hand. 

"My  Son,"  he  said  to  Dorian,  "I  am  but  God's 
servant.  He  is  your  Judge.  On  your  own  head 
be  it  if  you  claim  the  protection  of  His  House 
impiously  and  unworthily,"  .  .  .  the  key  grated 
in  the  lock,  the  bolt  screeched  slowly  out  of  its 
socket,  the  big  oak  door  swung  back,  and  Dorian 
stood  bareheaded  amid  the  cool  serenity  of  dim 
shadows.  .  .  . 

"Remember  in  Whose  House  you  are — in 
Whose  presence  you  stand,"  the  Vicar  whispered. 

"If  He  called  me  to  be  Judged,  sir — now,  this 
instant,"  Dorian  answered,  "I  should  not  fear. 
I  am  Innocent." 

The  Vicar  turned  without  a  word  and  passing 
into  the  porch,  closed  and  safely  locked  the  heavy 
door  behind  him. 

"Judge  not  .  .  ."  the  full  blaze  of  morning 
sunlight  poured  on  the  bent  and  venerable  head, 
while  the  sea  breeze  stirred  the  silver  hair  . 


THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY          281 

"Judge  not"  ...  he  had  not  judged  .  .  .  and 
as  he  went  forward,  with  half-closed  eyes,  towards 
the  Lytch  Gate  his  lips  moved  in  prayer  to  God 
that  he  had  done  rightly  ...  a  clattering  of  feet 
stopped  in  the  road  way  and  the  Vicar  looking 
up  saw  the  Sergeant  of  Police  touching  his  helmet. 

"Anything  wrong,  Morgan,"  he  inquired. 

"  'ardly  know,  sir,"  said  the  Sergeant,  "Coast 
Guard  say  they've  seen  someone  suspicious  come 
ashore  round  the  point — an'  certain  sure  some- 
one's slogged  Tom  Peyton  in  the  jaw.  We've 
been  warned — from  Plymouth — to  mind  for  a  man 
what's  wanted — " 

"Wanted— for  what,  Morgan?" 

"Suspicion — far  as  I  know,  sir — nothing  cer- 
tain. Beg  pardon — you've  closed  the  Church 
door,  sir?" 

"Yes.  And  locked  it.  Do  you  want  to  go 
in?" 

"You  see  it's  just  the  place  a  man  might  slip 
into — unbeknown  like — " 

"You  can  search  if  you  like,"  said  the  Vicar, 
with  no  apparent  show  of  concern,  "but  I  have 
only  just  come  out.  And,"  he  added  very  dis* 


(282         (THE  SINS  OF  SOCIETY 

tinctly,  with  a  quiet  smile,  '7  do  not  think  you  will 
'fnd  any  criminal  hidden  there." 

"No,  nor  me,  neither,  'a  course,  sir,  thank  you, 
sir." 

The  Sergeant  touched  his  helmet  and  walked 
away  quickly  down  the  road. 

The  Vicar  paused. 

"I  pray  that  it  was  no  lie,"  he  said  to  himself. 
"On  my  conscience  I  believe  that  I  spoke  truly." 

He  looked  at  the  sparkling  sea,  the  speckless 
sky  and  the  gorgeous  panorama  of  beautiful 
scenery  that  stretched  away  far  inland. 

Verily  all  things  that  God  made  were  very 
good. 

In  this  soft  Eden  of  the  West  there  was  no 
place  for  crime  nor  criminals,  nor  any  evil. 

Somewhere  in  the  distance  a  cloud  of  white 
dust  proclaimed  the  presence  of  a  hurrying  Motor 
Car. 

Noel  Ferrers  was  hastening  to  his  Wedding. 
****** 

Stretched  at  full  length  on  the  hard  seat  of 
a  pew,  with  nothing  but  a  hassock  for  a  pillow, 
Dorian  fell  into  a  fitful  sleep,  from  which  he  woke 


0THE  SINS  DF  SOCIETY,         a83 

with  a  start  at  the  sound  of  bells  clanging  in  the 
Tower  above  him.  Bells — yes,  and  Wedding 
Bells,  too, — pealing  joyously !  Who  for?  Dorian 
wondered  aimlessly,  then  shook  himself  up  to 
consider  his  next  step.  Surely  after  this  Wedding 
it  would  be  safe  to  leave  the  Church  with  the 
Other  onlookers,  inquire  casually  of  someone 
where  abouts  Lady  Marion  lived — and  make  one 
dash  for  it  I 

Just  then  the  key  creaked,  and  the  Church 
door  was  set  wide  open  by  the  Verger.  Two 
bare  legged,  bright  eyed,  brown  faced  lads  went 
whispering  up  a  side  aisle  to  their  place  as  "blow- 
ers" behind  the  organ.  The  Sexton's  wife,  and 
her  niece,  did  a  little  quiet  dusting,  while  Dorian 
hid,  crouching  in  the  shadow  of  pillars,  or  beneath 
the  shelter  of  tall  pews. 

The  interval  seemed  intolerable  before  the 
usual  curiosity — congregation  began  to  arrive  and 
he  could  drop  into  a  place  as  though  he  were  one 
of  them.  They  were  mostly  women  of  course, 
but  not  all  Fisher  folk — for  some  had  evidently 
driven  in  from  the  big  houses  in  the  district,  and 
others  had  come  from  domestic  work,  or  from 


284         THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY 

serving  in  little  shops — men  of  the  same  class  were 
present  also,  together  with  the  Postman  and  the 
Crier. 

Dorian  realized  that  the  Wedding  was  one 
of  unusual  local  importance,  especially  when  a 
very  well  groomed,  self-possessed  gentleman 
walked  slowly  to  the  altar  steps  and  stood  there 
placidly  surveying  the  assembly  which  fluttered 
with  excitement — while  some  one  whispered  in 
Dorian's  hearing,  "Dr.  Trevellyan — the  best  man 
— he — "  .  .  .  the  rest  of  the  sentence  was 
drowned  in  the  snuffling,  shufflng,  advent  of  the 
Infants'  School. 

Then  the  deep  hum  of  a  large  Motor  cul- 
minated in  the  nerve  tearing  screech  of  its  brake. 
People  craned  their  necks.  A  Police  Sergeant 
looked  in  at  the  door  for  a  moment,  then  stood 
respectfully  to  make  way  for  a  tall  man,  who 
paused  to  speak  with  him  earnestly.  The  Ser- 
geant shook  his  head.  The  big  man  strode  up 
the  aisle,  and  shook  hands  with  the  Doctor.  "The 
Bridegroom — "  someone  whispered  again,  and 
Dorian  completely  hidden  in  the  shadow,  watched 
curiously  through  his  fingers  as  the  big  man  turned 


THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY          285 

and  the  light  fell  full  on  the  white,  anxious,  evil 
face  of— Noel  Ferrers ! 

Ferrers — ? 

FERRERS !  I 

Good  God,  what  next?  In  another  moment 
would  Gwen  be  at  his  side?  Was  her  love  all  a 
sham,  a  dream?  Was  that  what  he  had  come 
home  to  realize?  She  knew  that  he,  Dorian,  was 
alive,  but  there  stood  Ferrers.  He  had  begged 
her  to  wait  till  he  came  back,  but  here  was  a 
Wedding.  Faithless!  Faithless — and  why  not? 
Faithless — as  her  sister  Marion  was  Worthless! 

And  it  was  for  these  two  he  had  given  his 
honor — almost  his  life! 

A  blaze  of  impotent  wrath  was  quenched  sud- 
denly as  Dorian's  eye  passing  beyond  Ferrers  to 
the  draped  Altar  fell  on  the  tall,  simple  Cross — 
perpetual  symbol  of  Sublime  Sacrifice.  Dorian 
felt  himself  wither  in  his  own  regard,  as  a 
momentary  flash  of  comparison  adjusted  life's 
perspective.  But  it  left  him  as  in  the  darkness 
after  lightning.  Everything  sounded  a  very  long 
way  off,  and  very  unreal.  He  heard  the  hoofs 
of  horses,  the  clatter  of  harness,  and  an  uncer- 


286         THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY 

tain  cheer  outside  .  .  .  around  him  people  moved 
and  rustled  ...  he  heard  whisperings  .  .  .  the 
organ  was  played  loudly  .  .  .  and  well  played, 
too  ...  he  liked  it  ...  he  would  not  look 
around  ...  he  was  conscious  of  a  slow,  steady 
swish,  swish  ...  the  noise  that  silk  makes,  get- 
ting nearer  .  .  .  the  Vicar  advanced  to  the  Altar, 
rail  .  .  .  Ferrers'  lips  were  pale  and  distinctly 
trembling,  but  he  was  forcing  a  smile  .  .  .  how 
small  and  fragile  the  little  figure  looked  at  his 
side  ...  so  very  still  .  .  .  why  did  she  glance 
around  ...  he  caught  her  full  face  then  .  .  . 
Gwen  .  .  .  Gwen  .  .  .  how  dear  she  had  been ! 
.  .  .  he'd  never  seen  that  expression  ...  as 
if  ...  as  if  she  were  looking  for  somebody  .  .  . 
but  looking  hopelessly  .  .  .  Gwen  .  .  .  whom  he 
had  loved  better  than  honor  and  life  .  .  .  was 
just  there  ...  in  front  of  him  .  .  .  knowing  he 
was  alive  .  .  .  being  married  to  Ferrers  .  .  . 
and  he,  of  all  men,  Dorian,  was  standing  there, 
motionless,  speechless,  looking  on  ...  how  odd 
the  Service  sounded  .  .  .  words,  words  .  .  , 
and  .  .  .  and  .  .  .  and  "wilt  thou  take,  this  man 
to  be.  thy^  wedded  husband"  .  .  . 


THE  SINS   OF  SOCIETY]         287 

"STOP!" 

Something  seemed  to  snap  in  Dorian's  brain 
and  his  shout  echoed  through  the  Church — 

STOP! 

In  a  bound  he  stood  at  the  Altar  rail. 

"Gwen!"  he  exclaimed. 

"Dorian  !!!"...  All  the  love  and  anguish 
of  the  child's  heart  spoke  as  she  threw  herself  into 
his  arms. 

"Gwen — what  does  this  mean — didn't  you 
know  that  I  was  alive — that  I  was  coming  back 
to  you — did  someone  keep  it  from  you?" 

"O  Dorian— Dorian  .  .  .    !" 

To  ask  more  just  then  was  useless — but  the 
face  and  the  voice  of  the  girl  that  he  loved  told 
fifty  times  the  truth ! 

For  the  next  ten  minutes  nothing  was  very 
clear  or  very  sure.  The  incongruity  of  such  a 
scene  in  such  a  place  was  obvious,  but  Noel 
Ferrers  took  no  heed  of  that.  He  beckoned  to 
the  Police  Sergeant  and  pointing  to  Dorian  said, 
"There's  your  man."  It  was  an  empty,  useless 
vengeance,  but  he  did  not  pause  to  think.  The 
plans  and  the  villainies  of  months  were  robbed 


288          THE  SINS   OF   SOCIETY* 

of  their  fruit  literally  when  it  was  within  his  grasp. 
The  word  "yes"  was  actually  hovering  on  the  lips 
of  Gwen  when  this  thrice  accursed  ghost  rose 
from  the  dead  to  thwart  him.  Very  well,  let 
Dorian  or  Marion  or  both  fall  together  now,  he 
did  not  care.  He  would  humiliate  his  rival  in 
public,  if  nothing  else.  "That  is  your  man,"  he 
said,  "arrest  him." 

To  her  honor  be  it  said  that  the  germ  of  a 
generous  feeling  stirred  in  Marion's  sluggish 
heart.  She  stretched  out  her  hands  as  though 
she  were  going  to  speak  and — who  knows — 
perhaps  she  might  have  done  so,  but  close  on  the 
heels  of  the  Constable  came  a  breathless,  hurrying 
pair,  James  Hogg  and  Lady  Goldbury,  with 
Morris,  curious  and  amused,  behind  them.  Not 
knowing  that  this  was  the  Wedding  Day  Lady 
Goldbury  had  gone  off  like  a  rocket  when  she  had 
arrived  at  the  cottage  and  found  that  the  party 
had  already  started  for  the  Church.  She  burst 
on  to  the  strange  scene  like  a  whirlwind  and  tried 
to  say  ten  things  at  one  time,  when  Hogg  laid 
his  hand  upon  her  arm.  The  little  man's  natural 
sense  of  the  fitness  of  things  made  him  lower  his 


THE   SINS   OF   SOCIETY          289 

voice.  Speaking  very  apologetically  and  respect- 
fully to  the  Vicar,  he  said,  "In  the  proper  place 
we  can  prove,  sir, — " 

And  the  Vicar,  remembering  the  struggle  with 
his  conscience,  remembering  his  prayer  and  his 
hope,  answered,  "There  is  no  place  more  proper, 
or  more  fitting,  than  this  in  which  to  do  Justice 
to  the  Innocent." 

And  Morris  whispered  to  the  Sergeant  of 
Police  that  the  Warrant  was  withdrawn,  and 
Hogg  told  the  Vicar  in  a  low  voice  how  a  common 
thief  had  stolen  the  Box,  concerning  the  contents 
of  which  there  had  been  some  doubt.  He  had 
brought  the  Box  with  him,  and  before  Marion 
had  time  to  protest  he  added,  suiting  the  action 
to  the  word,  "I  will  open  it  now."  The  ribbon 
broke  and  the  seals  cracked,  as  Hogg  tore  off  the 
lid.  He  handed  the  Box  to  Morris  and  said, 
"Restore  it  to  its  owner." 

Morris  looked  into  the  Box  and  held  it  before 
Marion's  eyes.  For  a  moment  she  lifted  out  of 
it  a  magnificent  Diamond  Tiara  of  quite  unique 
design,  curiously  inset  with  blue  emeralds  and 
diamonds.  She  dropped  it  back  with  trembling 


290         THE  SINS  OF  SOCIETY* 

hands  and  her  eyes  sought  Noel  Ferrers'  face. 
On  that  face  was  stamped  the  agony  of  a  black 
soul  in  torment — of  a  devil  under  the  lash.  For 
a  moment  he  looked  at  Gwen  and  his  lips  moved, 
but  no  word  came.  Then  with  shaking  knee  and  un- 
certain tread  he  reeled  down  the  aisle  and  was  gone. 

The  Vicar  closed  his  Book. 

The  Organist,  who  was  not  only  a  school- 
master but  a  man  of  discernment,  had  the  tact  to 
indicate  the  termination  of  the  proceedings  by 
playing  a  loud  and  ebullient  Voluntary. 

Dr.  Trevellyan  took  Gwen  back  to  the  cottage 
and  after  a  little  while  recommended  that  she 
should  be  allowed  to  sit  and  hold  Dorian's  hand 
as  long  as  ever  she  liked.  And  she  did.  And 
they  did  not  say  much.  Their  eyes  told  them  all 
that  they  wanted  to  know.  The  others  talked  a 
good  deal.  Lady  Goldbury  swore  she  knew 
Dorian  was  alive  all  along.  Marion  posed  a  little 
and  took  sal  volatile.  Hogg  had  the  common- 
sense  to  send  off  telegraphs  which  ensured  Dorian 
something  faintly  approaching  a  reasonable 
change  of  clothes  in  the  morning.  In  the  brief 
interval  when  he  and  the  young  soldier  were  al- 


THE   SINS   OF  SOCIETY         291 

lowed  to  smoke  alone,  he  took  his  courage  in  his 
hands  and  spoke  of  the  future,  of  his  marriage 
with  Lady  Goldbury,  of  Dorian's  marriage — he 
hoped  on  the  same  day — and  of  his,  James  Hogg's 
immediate  need  for  an  administrator,  a  young, 
clever,  and  resourceful  man  to  be  a  Partner  in  his 
big  business  undertaking.  "We  were  together,  you 
know,"  he  said,  "in  the  strangest  adventure  in  the 
world.  You  are  not  a  rich  man.  You  want  work. 
Don't  let's  dissolve  the  Partnership." 

Dorian  shook  him  gratefully  by  the  hand.  He 
was  thinking  of  another  partnership,  and  Gwen's 
voice  called  him  back  from  the  garden  into  the 
house. 

*         *         *         *,         *         * 

When  the  surprised  and  excited  congregation 
had  dispersed,  and  the  little  Church  was  empty, 
the  Vicar  came  and  stood  alone  for  a  while  by 
the  Altar  rail  and  thought  deeply. 

What  would  have  happened  if  he  had  locked 
Borian  March  out  of  his  Church,  and  if  the 
Police  had  taken  him,  and  his  arrest  had  not 
been  known  until  the  marriage  were  over?  How 
near  he  had  been  to  a  life  tragedy.  He  knelt  and 


292         THE  SINS   OF   SOCIETY 

thanked  God  in  the  fulness  of  his  heart  that  he 
had  judged  not  as  men  judge,  but  as  they  are 
told  to  judge  according  to  the  Word  of  Heaven. 
Neither  within  the  Church  nor  without  was  there 
any  sound.  In  the  stillness  of  that  utter  peace  the 
lips  of  the  Vicar  silently  framed  the  words : 

"Verily,  O  Lord,  in  Thy  House  there  is 
Sanctuary." 

****** 

When  he  came  down  to  the  Lytch  Gate  again 
it  was  full  noon.  The  sea  was  deep  azure  touched 
with  foam,  the  sky  an  arch  of  aching  blue.  The 
swelling  moors  and  deep  warm  coombs  stretched 
away  inland  a  fragrant,  heaving  Paradise. 

God  made  the  Country! 

'(Man  made  the  City.) 

And  all  that  God  made  was  good. 

Somewhere  in  the  distance  a  cloud  of  white 
smoke  told  of  the  presence  of  a  hurrying  Motor 
Car.  In  it  Noel  Ferrers  sat.  He  had  stood  on 
the  threshold  of  Paradise,  its  most  precious  fruit 
had  been  just  within  his  reach,  but  now  the  gates 
were  closed  and  he  was  going  back,  broken, 
beaten,  hungry,  alone — to  the  City. 


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